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THE ART 



OF 



EXTEMPORE PUBLIC SPEAKING. 



J. 6. BARNARD, 

SjBJJJKER-STRBET, LONDON 



THE ART 

OF 

^tempore public Speaking, 

INCLUDING 

A COURSE OF DISCIPLINE 

FOR OBTAINING THE FACULTIES 

OF 

DISCRIMINATION, ARRANGEMENT, 

AND 

ORAL DISCUSSION; 

DESIGNED FOR THE 

U$t of £>tJjoote ano &tl&$mtvutmn+ 






By JOHN RIPPINGHAJ 

AUTHOR OF " RULES FOR ENGLISH COMPOSITION," ^CC. &C. 



- mag-no in populo cum saspe coorta est 




Seditio, saevitque animis ignobile vulgus ; 
Jamque, faces et saxa volant, furor arma ministrat : 
Turn, pietate gravem ac meritis si forte virum quem 
Conspexere, silent, arrectisque auribus astant : 
Ille regit dictis animos, et pectora mulcet. 



Virgil, 



:u £s TTfvr?, ivg av httoi *?t£ 9 itnycu t;vs; acrtv at t>j£ v-^nyooiag yovt- 
(JLivrarcti, (7rco ; J7ro>CEJ|(X£V»j£, wj7r?p Elating rtyog yioiya y recig ttevCc rctvratg 
haig Tng *v tw Xty«v cvva(j.twg y r,c oXu>; %&$ig v<$£y.)-—Longinus. 



LONDON: 

IXTED FOR LONGMAN, HURST, REES, ORME> AND BROWN, 
PATERNOSTER ROW. 



1813. 



Dedication* 



TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE 

LORD GRENVILLE, 

CHANCELLOR OF THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD. 

fife. fyc. Sfc. 



My Lo&d, 

Among the endowments with which 
human nature is invested, the faculty of speech 
must be regarded as eminently valuable. 

The endearments of friendship, the ten- 
derness of sympathy, and the interchange of 
conveniences^ yield alike their testimony and 
homage to the utility of oral communication. 



mmmmmmmm^tmmm 



II 

But when this faculty is viewed in that 
excellence of which it is susceptible, at once 
subduing the prejudices, and expanding the 
minds of men, its powers and its possessor 
become equal objects of wonder and rever- 
ence. 

To facilitate this exalted improvement 
of our common talent is an object of too much 
importance not to be desired. An attempt 
therefore to render the Art of Oratory capable 
of tuition, has a peculiar claim on indulgence ; 
which the novelty and difficulty of the under- 
taking seem to justify. 

The experience of every day admonishes 
man to a constant diffidence of his own 
powers. But in the first endeavours to reduce 
an art within the limit of rules, he must be 
rather audacious than conceited, who calcu- 
lates upon success. 

If however it shall be my fortune to have 
accelerated, by this Treatise, the cultivation of 
ex-temjore Eloquence, I shall derive many 



Ill 

pleasing reflections from this dedication : for 
ought I then to suppress the sensations of 
pride which will occur, when the offering I 
thus make to you shall be esteemed not alto- 
gether unworthy the first orator of the age ? 

I have the honor to be, 
My Lord, 

With great deference, 
Your Lordship's 
Most obedient, and 
Most humble Servant, 

JOHN RIPPINGHAM, 

London, 18fA February, 1813. 



B f 



INTRODUCTION. 



The faculty of forming a just succession of 
correct ideas, and of delivering them with 
clearness, fluency, and elegance, has commonly 
been esteemed one of the most difficult attain- 
ments, and one of the most enviable distinc- 
tions, with which a human being can be 
endowed. 

There is perhaps no condition of life, in 
w 7 hich the ability to arrange and express what 
the mind suggests, is not useful as well as 
pleasing. In many departments of human 
action it is almost indispensable: and a mo- 
mentary recollection of those who have ob- 
tained the largest share of reverence, will 
suggest how great a value has always been 
placed on true oratory. 

The situations in this free country, where 
eloquence is particularly valuable, are the par- 



■■■■■ 



VI 



liament, the pulpit, and the bar : and in each 
of these stations, it is rewarded always with 
fame, and generally with wealth. 

The senator who awakens the slumbering 
energies of mankind, and guides them to the 
preservation or attainment of public welfare : 
the advocate who defends the oppressed and 
vindicates the innocent ; and the divine, who 
with sweet persuasion, reclaims the dissolute, 
and consoles the afflicted, are amongst the 
first objects of general gratitude and respect. 
But in a more enlarged view of mankind, 
there is undoubted utility in a clear habit of 
thinking, and an easy mode of enunciation. 

Parochial meetings, and other local assem- 
blies, are frequently convened, to decide on 
subjects materially affecting general interests. 
On these occasions, artifice can be exposed, 
or prejudice successfully encountered, only by 
the aid of ready elucidation. The advantage 
indeed of correctness and facility of speech is 
so obvious, and the want of it, is a deficiency 
so sensibly felt, that it would be useless in this 
place to attempt any further illustration. 

That there is however a prevailing defect in 



Vll 

the art of public speaking", is proved by con- 
tinual experience : and is indeed so general, 
that it may not be unworthy attention to en- 
quire into its cause. 

V'To attain the powers necessary for stand- 
ing- up before a numerous audience, and de- 
livering without hesitation or embarrassment, 
a long series of well adjusted sentiments, 
appears so difficult, that many are deterred 
even from an attempt. Nor will this timi- 
dity seem extraordinary, when the powers 
requisite to an orator, are merely enume- 
rated. 

He must be perfectly acquainted with his 
subject, and be able to examine it in detail, 
as well as in the aggregate. Whatever can 
favor his own opinion, or can be urged against 
it, must be familiar to his mind. All that 
can illustrate or embellish his subject must be 
recollected ; and these resources must be so 
digested, that there be not omission, redund- 
ancy, or disorder ; but that one topic lead to 
another by regular connection. Lastly, he 
must have such commaqd of language, as will 
prevent, not only hesitation, but the use of arx 



V1I1 



inelegant phrase ; and will preserve his sen- 
tences in strict modulation. V 

And though men have existed, and still 
exist, who have faithfully realized this sketch 
of an orator, yet one of the causes which have 
contributed to the scarcity of good public 
speakers, seems to be a diffidence, or rather a 
despair of conquering such over-bearing diffi- 
culties *. 

Another cause of this deficiency, has pro- 
bably been the embarrassment, which a person, 
unaccustomed to address a large number, 
must feel in the attempt: an embarrassment 



* It may not be unsuitable to observe, that unpreme- 
ditated eloquence, or what is generally termed ex-tempore 
speaking, does not seem to have been one of the accom- 
plishments of antiquity. The orations which have de- 
scended to posterity, appear to have been previously 
Composed ; and were probably learned by heart, and de- 
livered from recollection. If they had been spoken at 
the impulse of the moment they must have been lost to 
us, unless there existed an art of stenography ; of which 
there is nothing to shew that the ancients were pos- 
sessed, 



IX 

so distressing, and seemingly so invincible, 
that few have the fortitude to endure it. 

But amongst the sources of this general 
defect, I cannot consent to enumerate a pre- 
vailing 1 want of talent. There is not so much 
disparity in the intellectual powers of men, as 
a survey of human nature would induce us to 
believe. The difference of early discipline ; 
the judgment or incompetence by which the 
youthful capacity is cultivated ; and the habits 
of industry or indolence, which are generally 
obtained in the commencement of life, are the 
chief causes of that apparent disproportion of 
ability with which the world abounds. 

The circumstance however to which the 
deficiency in the art of public speaking may 
perhaps in the greatest measure be attributed, 
is the want of any plan of instruction, in this 
most useful talent. Amongst the extent and 
variety of our elementary works, not one has 
appeared professing to teach this valuable art. 
A great deal has been done to promote the 
practice of recitation, and to train young* per- 
sons in a correct and elegant mode of articu- 
lation and gesture. But it remains to be 

B 6 



shewn by what means the youthful mind may 
be trained to the habit of thinking' accurately ; 
and of expressing its ideas orally, in clear, 
elegant, and unembarrassed terms. 

Whether the apparent difficulty of devising 
a mode by which this purpose could be ac- 
complished, has dissuaded persons from the 
attempt ; or whether an accidental disregard 
of the subject, has been the cause of this omis- 
sion, it can hardly be useful to enquire. The 
defect must be acknowledged, and the utility 
of a system, to inculcate a practice so elegant 
and advantageous, can scarcely be doubted. 

It is from these considerations, and under 
a persuasion that the art of ex-tempore speak- 
ing is susceptible of tuition, that I have at- 
tempted to supply the deficiency in the follow- 
ing work. 

The art of written composition has been 
explained and facilitated by various modes. 
As the object of speaking and writing must 
be the same, it may not be unprofitable to con- 
sider the means by which the ability for writ- 
ten composition can be acquired. 

In order to write upon any subject, it is ne- 



xt 



cessary to understand it; that is, to be able 
to appreciate what it is intended to discuss; 
this is commonly called the perception. After 
the subject itself is thus far understood, an 
opinion or judgment must be formed upon it. 
The considerations which produced that judg- 
ment, generally termed arguments, are next to 
be ascertained, and arranged in regular con- 
nection. When in addition to these mental 
operations, correctness in the choice, and har- 
mony in the disposition of language shall have 
also been acquired; little seems wanting for 
this art of discussion. All these however may 
be effected at leisure and in seclusion ; and the 
distinctions therefore between oral and written 
composition, seem to consist in the difference 
between writing and speaking ; between de- 
liberation and rapidity; and between the 
tranquillity of retirement, and the agitation of 
a public assembly. 

To the requisites therefore thus enumerated 
for the art of written composition ; the faculty 
of public speaking moreover needs rapid dis- 
crimination, retentive memoiy, clear articula- 
tion, correct emphasis, and graceful deport- 



Xll 



merit. Let each of these qualifications be 
now separately examined, and let us inquire 
by what means they may be obtained or im- 
proved. 

The power of discrimination is by far less 
a natural endowment than a result of habit. 
It is indispensable in every art and science, 
and is gained by continued practice.^ If a 
picture be shewn to a connoisseur, his experi- 
ence enables him to determine, first, the de- 
partment of the art to which it belongs; that 
is, whether it represent an event in history, a 
scene in nature, a general passion, or a parti- 
cular individual : and next, to ascertain its 
peculiar excellencies, whether in genius of 
conception, accuracy of delineation, or brilli- 
ancy of colouring. The quickness with which 
he forms his conclusions, will generally be pro- 
portionate to the extent of his practice. The 
same principles of discrimination prevail in 
all the departments of life ; and they all arise 
from the same source— habit *. * 



* I am aware that this reasoning may seem to produce 
the inference, that taste is nothing more than the result 



Xlll 

A further illustration of these remarks may- 
be found in the common business of education. 
When a boy, translating* an author, wants to 
ascertain the meaning* of a word, he first, 
from habit, determines its part of speech ; 
habit next guides him to seek in his lexicon, 
the word or its primitive ; and out of the many 
explanations which he finds, habit suggests 
that which is the most suitable to his present 
purpose. Thus we find, that discrimination 
is a faculty, of which even childhood is capa- 
ble, and to which it has constant recourse. 



of habit. If it be remembered that taste is only the fa- 
culty of judging — in conha-distinction to genius, which is 
the faculty of executing — and that judgment can be <^ 
formed only from experience, this inference will not seem 
extraordinary. When, in common discourse it is said, a 
person has a taste for music, if the phrase only mean that 
the person is fond of music, it is inaccurate : but if it 
mean, that the person can appreciate the excellencies and 
defects of a performance, it is correct and intelligible. 
Perhaps two qualities are generally implied in the word 
taste when it is thus employed — ability to judge, and par- p 
tiality for the art. 



■■BflHMHHl 



XIV 



It is in this manner that the youthful mind 
may be trained to distinguish the several kinds 
of literary composition from each other : and 
at length, by regular gradation, to discrimi- 
nate the leading characteristics of each. 

The early intellect which can discern the 
narrative, the descriptive, and the argumen- 
tative, from each other, may soon be taught to 
determine their respective species. Narrative 
will be divided into history, biography, and 
detached events : the descriptive, into repre- 
sentations of places, persons, and objects; and 
the argumentative, into that which relates to 
public, and thjit which regards individual 
affairs. Surely the mind which can correctly 
apply the rules of grammatical syntax, may 
as easily appreciate these departments of com- 
position. 

Descending however still further into de- 
tail, it will be found with how much laeility 
discrimination may be extended. 

A boy, by short practice, will distinguish 
the objects and the actions included in a fable, 
as easily as he can point out nouns and verbs. 
A little more experience will suggest to him 



XV 

the purpose, or as it is commonly called, the 
moral of a fable : and thus he will soon readily 
determine the leading circumstance of every 
proposed narrative. The quickness of his dis- 
cernment will, of course, be in proportion to 
the extent of his practice. No one will doubt 
this faculty of discrimination ; and the practi- 
cability of exciting it, who has observed with 
what readiness young persons discover and 
correct violations, of even the refined rules of 
grammar*. 

As it is one part of the system contained in 
the following work, to train youth in this habit 
of discriminating, and in the practice of re- 
lating with scrupulous fidelity all the circum- 
stances of a narrative, I may be allowed 
to observe, that such a discipline must also 
have a probable tendency to produce a salu- 
tary effect on early morals. 



* The exercises by Mr. Lindley Murray on his excel- 
lent English Grammar, will convince any one of the close- 
ness of apprehension which youth are expected to possess^ 
and which indeed is seldom found to be wanting. 



? 



XVI 

Falsehood frequently proceeds from thought- 
less exaggeration, careless omission, and an 
imperfect discernment of what is heard or seen. 
The habits of accuracy in discrimination, and 
of correctness in statement, will, it may be 
hoped, prevent much of this disgraceful' 
evil. 

From narrative the student may be conduct- 
ed to the descriptive, and thence to the argu- 
mentative. In the former, he may be trained 
to distinguish the several objects of which the 
representation is formed ; and in the latter, to 
analyze the reasoning, and to separate the ar- 
guments from the inference. But as these 
gradations will be explained in the pro- 
gress of the work, they need not be introduced 
here. 

Hitherto, discrimination has been considered 
only as it may be employed on narratives de- 
scriptions and reasonings already prepared, 
and submitted to the pupil for an exercise of 
his skill. But it is easy to conceive, how 
quickly the same intellect will acquire the 
power of discriminating its own resources 
upon any subject with which it may be ac- 



xvn 



quainted: and as the habit of orally stating- 
Avhat has been discovered in the compositions 
of others, will have already been acquired, 
there cannot be much difficulty in training- 
young* persons to the like habit of expressing 
their own suggestions. 

That the youthful mind may not, however, 
seem to be urged to inordinate transitions, the 
faculty of mental discussion is inculcated 
by slow and cautious advances, and the 
most clear and easy methods are employed 
to initiate the pupil into the habit of thought, 
as well as of oral discussion. 

Having thus explained the nature of dis- 
crimination, and the mode by which it may 
be taught, it is necessary to give some 
attention to memory, without which no one 
can hope to attain the art of ex-tempore 
speaking. 

No endowment with which man is blessed 
is more abused than that of memory. Want 
of recollection is one of the first excuses which 
ignorance and indolence plead for heir defici- 
encies. But it is not always observed, that it 
is what they have never tried to remember. 



■■^^■^^■■Hil 



iJfLrllt ilil 



XV111 

that has been thus soon forgotten. There is 
scarcely one of these forgetful persons who 
does not, in many instances, expose a good 
memory, when inclination happens to have its 
influence. There are those who can re- 
count the exact succession of cards in a 
game at whist, and yet shelter the most dis- 
graceful ignorance under the plea of bad 
memory. 

There are three modes, by either of which 
recollection will generally be supplied ; incli- 
nation, practice, and association. 

There is scarcely any effort or extent to 
which remembrance may not be enforced, if 
the inclination be but sufficiently strong. In 
confirmation of this opinion reference need only 
be had to the favourite pursuit or amusement 
of any one; and it will seldom be found that 
memory is inadequate to the desired attain- 
ment. The astonishing tenacity which is 
requisite to perform from remembrance, a 
musical piece of any considerable length; and 
the accuracy with which it is thus frequently 
executed, will sufficiently illustrate this 
position. 



XIX 

It is however of small consequence to know 
that inclination has so great an ascendancy 
over the memory, if no useful result be thence 
obtained. But it seems to suggest, that sub- 
jects of instruction should always be rendered 
as inviting as possible; and that the most 
pleasing modes of tuition should be devised 
and adopted. 

In this treatise therefore, narrative has been 
first introduced, as most alluring to young 
minds ; and therefore most easily retained. 
Description next succeeds, as being nearest 
in attraction * and reasoning does not follow, 
until memory shall thus have been trained by 
habit. 

That memory is susceptible of improvement 
almost incredible, by the force of practice, is 
proved by constant observation and experi- 
ence. " Concerning the ideas themselves," 
says Locke, " it is easy to remark, that those 
" that are oftenest refreshed (amongst which 
" are those that are conveyed into the mind 
§ * by more ways than one) by a frequent 
" return of the objects or actions that produce 
" them, fix themselves best in the memory* 



mmmmmmmmm 



XX 

" and remain clearest and longest there *." 
If a person go to a shop, where two or three 
thousand different articles are sold, (as is fre- 
quently the case) it is seldom found that even 
the most stupid vendor is at a loss to recollect 
the commodity required, nor the place wherein 
it has been reposited. A medical practitioner, 
by force of habit, recollects and combines all 
the probable amelioratives of disease : and a 
lawyer, by the same power of habit, recurs and 
arranges, all the authorities which affect each 
of his clients' interest. 

In like manner, continued practice will 
enable the young student in the art of public 
speaking, to retain the leading points of every 
narrative, description, and argument, which 
is offered to him, as well as of those subjects 
upon which his own judgment is employed. 

Memory however may be greatly improved, 
if not almost re-created, by the method of 
association. Indeed, if memory be strictly 



* Essay on. the Human Understanding, book ii. cap. 10. 



XXI 

examined, it will appear to be nothing more 
than a faculty, which combines images with 
each other. We never recur an idea, without 
acquiring some combination. In reading, we 
perceive only words, letters, or characters, 
which certainly do not pourtray any idea; 
and yet ideas immediately follow, because we 
recollect the thought, sensation, or image, to 
which those words or characters are the in- 
dex : hence a poem has been denominated, a 
speaking picture. The same principle will 
also apply inversely. A botanist, desirous of 
ascertaining the name of any vegetable pro- 
duction ; examines the root, the plant, and the 
fructification; and thence determines its class, 
order, genus, species, and variety ; and from 
these he collects its appropriate name. All 
our senses assist us in the same manner, sound, 
feeling, smell, sight, and taste, bring to our 
memory th§ir respective sources. Thus a 
blind man recognizes persons by the voice, and 
objects by feeling*. 



* It is related of Sir John Fielding, the celebrated ma- 



XX11 

These may be termed natural combinations; 
but it remains to be seen, whether an artifi- 
cial mode of association may not also be 
formed, applicable to every subject and oc- 
casion. 

If in teaching a child to recollect the five 
vowels, it were to be instructed to aflix them 
separately to one of the fingers and the thumb 
of one hand, they would s&an be confirmed 
in the memory ; as the child by reference to 
the indices would instantly recur fcfceir appro- 
priated letters: in other vvordc, the pupil by 
looking at the thumb would recollect aj by 
looking at the next finger, would remember b, 
and so on. Many persons tie knots in their 
handkerchiefs, or twist string round their 
fingers, as convenient mementos; and I 
have seen a laboring man mark the surface of 
his shoe with chalk, for the like purpose. As 
soon as these monitors are observed, they 



gistrate, that as soon as he heard a culprit speak, he 
could determine whether he had been arraigned before 
him at any former time, however distant. 






XXI 11 

bring* to mind the circumstances to be re- 
membered. 

A series of palpable objects will, in like 
manner, serve as indications of a train of 
events or a course of reasoning; and it will 
be difficult to look at any one of such indices 
without recurring the idea with which it has A 
thus been associated*. But indeed this me- 
thod is nothing more than the reduction to a 
regular system, of that, which natural memory 
performs in all its exercises. 

The system of association, thus briefly stated, 
has lately been offered to the public with great 
earnestness ; and has been taught m lectures 
by a foreign gentleman, who appears invested 
with the dignity of " professor — of the art of 
" memory !" I should be extremely unwilling 
to depreciate the ability of the professor, or 



* Prince Le Boo, who was brought from one of the 
Friendly Isles by Captain Wilson, practised this mode of 
association with success almost incredible. — See Captain 
Wilson's Narrative. 



XXIV 

the utility of his art : but it is an act of justice 
to observe, that the secret, if it can be termed 
one, was offered to the English public, some 
time before the professor arrived here, in a 
very judicious and intelligible essay of the 
Monthly Magazine for May, 1807. Such 
persons, however, as desire more exact infor- 
mation on this curious subject, may consult, 
not only the very clear practical paper to 
which I have just alluded, but also a treatise 
of considerable length which has since appeared 
as a digest of Professor Von Feinagle's sys- 
tem. The amiable and enlightened Dr. 
Watts was aware of the effect of association in 
fixing any object in the recollection: his 
words are these — " When you would remem- 
" her new things or words, endeavour to asso- 
" ciate and connect them with some words or 
" things, which you have well known before, 
" and which are fixed and established in your 
" memory. This association of ideas is of 
" great importance and force, and may be of 
" excellent use in many instances of human 
" life. One idea which is familiar to the 



XXV 

" mind, connected with others which are new 
¥ and strange, will bring* those new ideas into 
" easy remembrance."* 

But it appears, that the science of mnemonics 
is of considerable antiquity. To the book lately 
mentioned, as containing M. Von Feinagle's 
system, there are prefixed sketches of very old 
and curious works on artificial memory. 

The mode of association is not, however, 
made a part of the following system for extem- 
pore speaking. It is introduced here for the 
information of the curious. Memory will be 
sufficiently aided by the practice, and me- 
thodical arrangements which are prescribed in 
the work. 

" Having thus endeavoured to explain and as- 
sist the faculties of discrimination and me- 



* Watts's Improvement of the Mind, Part I. Chapter 17* 
I would recommend the whole of the chapter whence thi» 
selection is made, to me attentive perusal of all persons % 
but those who sincerely desire to seek wisdom and happi- 
ness, and are not to be subdued by a necessity for industry 
and perseverance, I earnestly exhort to read and treasure 
up, the whole of that inestimable book. 

C 



XXVI 

mory, little remains to be done in this place. 
The remaining- requisites, articulation, empha- 
sis, and gesture, are already well understood; 
and have also been discussed and taught, by 
many able and well-known writers. Neverthe- 
less, they are each reduced to clear, practical 
rules in this work. 

To speak distinctly, and sufficiently loud to 
be heard by those who are addressed, is neces- 
sary for conversation and reading, as well as for 
recitation and oratory.* In public speaking, 
every word should be uttered, as though it were 
spoken singly. The solemnity of an oration 



* Lord Chesterfield, in one of his letters, thus ad- 
vises his son-—" Take care to open your teeth when you 
speak ; to articulate every word distinctly ; and to beg of 
any friend you converse with to remind and stop you, if 
ever you fall into a rapid and unintelligible mutter. You 
should even read aloud to yourself, and tune your utter- 
ance to your own ear; and read at first much slower 
than you need to do, in order to correct that shameful 
habit, of speaking faster than you ought. In short, you 
will make it your business, your study, and your plea- 
sure, to speak well, if you think rightly." 

4 



xxvu 

justifies and demands such scrupulous distinct- 
ness. That careful pronunciation which would 
be ridiculously pedantic in colloquial inter- 
course, is an essential requisite of good elo- 
cution. 

They who have heard the late Mr. Pitt ad- 
dress the House of Commons, must recollect 
the impressive effect of that clear articulation 
with which his speeches were invariably deli- 
vered. 

There is in every sentence some word or 
words which require peculiar emphasis, so that 
they may reach the hearer with distinguishing 
force. In selecting them, the meaning intended 
to be conveyed by the passage, is certainly the 
best guide; but the judgment of the preceptor 
will, in this instance, be of great assistance to 
the pupil. It is likewise an excellent mode, for 
the student to read or repeat a passage from 
some author, to a person of correct taste and 
good delivery, who would immediately after- 
wards recite the same selection. The difference 
in effect would be perceived, and would fur- 
nish an excellent general lesson to the un- 
formed orator. The well-known anecdote o£ 

c 2 



XXVlll 

Demosthenes and the player affords a striking 1 
instance of the efficacy of such instruction.* 

Upon the same principle, much advantage 
may accrue to a young person from hearing* 
some of the best public speakers and theatrical 
performers, particularly if a discreet friend 



* Demosthenes ventured to speak before the people. He 
had a weak voice, a thick way of speaking, and a very 
short breath ; notwithstanding which, his periods were so 
long, that he was often obliged to stop in the midst of them 
to take breath. This occasioned his being hissed by the 
whole audience. 

As he withdrew, hanging down his head and in the ut- 
most confusion, Satyrus, one of the most excellent actors 
of those times, who was his friend, met him ; and having 
learned from himself the cause of his being so much de- 
jected, he assured him, that the evil was not without re- 
medy, and that the case was not so desperate as he ima- 
gined. He desired him to repeat some of the verses of 
Sophocles or Euripides to him, which he accordingly did. 

Satyrus spoke them after him, and gave them such effect, 
by the tone, gesture, and spirit with which he pronounced 
them, that Demosthenes himself found them quite different 
from what they were in his own manner of speaking. He 
perceived plainly what he wanted, and applied himself to 
the acquiring of it. 



XXIX 



point out at the time their respective excellencies : 
and it may reasonably be hoped, that when the 
youthful capacity shall be enabled to appreciate 
in the works of others, the particular words 
which require emphasis, that it will have little 
difficulty in ascertaining the emphatic words in 
its own compositions, whether written or oral. 

As gesture must be regarded in the discipline 
for public speaking, it claims attention in this 
treatise. 

- It should be clearly understood, that the ges- 
ture suitable for an orator, is very different 
from that which is displayed on the stage. The 
business of an orator is to instruct and per- 
suade. The business of an actor is to exhibit 
the effect, which the passions produce on the 
figure and countenance. The former is the ad- 
viser; the latter, the representation of his fel- 
low-creatures. The orator is guided by rea- 
son; and his appeals are to the reason. The 
player is guided by feeling ; and addresses the 
feelings. The violence of gesticulation, which 
is correct in one; would be hyperbolical or lu- 
dicrous in the other. 

That the figure should be erect, but not per- 



XXX 

pendieular : the body resting upon one leg* ; the 
other leg being a little advanced : and that the 
arms should be employed alternately, in tempe- 
rate action, are amongst the plainest, and most 
useful precepts for the gesture of an orator. But 
to observe the deportment of those public speak- 
ers who possess elegance of manner, is to ob- 
tain the most efficacious lesson, 

It should be remembered, that gesture is an 
accomplishment worthy even of great atten- 
tion. The advantage of a graceful appearance 
and suitable action is of too much consequence 
to be dispensed with. An audience is always 
more favourably disposed toward a prepos- 
sessing, than an uninteresting speaker. The 
present Lord Erskine owed much of his popu- 
larity, and his success at the bar, to an elegant 
and appropriate gesture. 

v Such are the powers which the art of ex-tem- 
pore public speaking requires. To accommo- 
date the preceding views, to the acquisition of 
this valuable attainment, the present work is di- 
vided into three parts. The first treats of the 
faculties of reading and recitation; and in- 
cludes a practical discipline for articulation, ac- 



XXXI 



cent, emphasis, pauses, tones, and gesture. The 
second contains compositions and selections, — 
narrative, descriptive and argumentative. Each 
of these is analyzed, that the pupil may per- 
ceive its several parts; and thus become ini- 
tiated in the practice of discriminating all the 
branches of a discourse. Clear and copious 
rules are therefore given to assist the student in 
the practice of distinguishing the members of 
every species of literary composition : and their 
connection and dependence are reduced to me- 
thod, as the most simple and efficacious mode of 
fixing them in the memory. The third part 
contains a gradual exercise of the student's in- 
tellect. Rules are given for acquiring, by slow 
and cautious advances, the habits of discussing 
subjects with facility and clearness ; and thence 
of speaking on them with jluency and elegance. 
The first part will train the pupil into accurate 
enunciation, and graceful deportment.. The 
second will initiate him in the faculties of un- 
derstanding, recollecting, and repeating the 
sentiments he may read or hear : and the third 
will familiarize him in the art of ascertaining, 



XXXll 



arranging, and delivering the ideas which his 
own judgment may provide. 

The gradations of art are always laborious. 
No one can hope to attain excellence at once. 
The patience and diligence necessary for the 
acquisition of a language, a science, or even an 
amusement, should always repress such hopes 
of progression as are rather sanguine than ra- 
tional. Those, however, who duly appreciate 
the value of the art, which it is the object of 
these pages to facilitate, will patiently submit 
to the discipline by which alone its attainment 
seems likely to be insured. But with this dis- 
position for perseverance, and by proper cau- 
tion against too rapid an advancement, much 
advantage may reasonably be hoped from ad- 
herence to the proposed system. Neither does 
it seem extravagant to believe, that besides the 
effect which the prescribed discipline would pro- 
duce, in accelerating the art of oratory, other 
salutary consequences would thence accrue to 
the student. 

By the practice of discrimination, he would 
become enabled to understand and analyze, 



xxxiii 

whatever should be offered to his attention* 
The value of such a talent may be easily ap- 
preciated. It would facilitate every species of 
investigation, and afford a strong protection 
against imposture. A mind thus qualified 
would not be dazzled by splendid imagery, nor 
deluded by arguments merely specious. So- 
phistry, whether written or oral, which fre- 
quently seduces the unwary, could obtain no 
undue ascendancy over an understanding which 
could distinguish and estimate, the reasoning, 
and deductions, on which it bestowed attention. 

To instructors, it need hardly be observed, 
that as the object of this treatise is to accelerate 
the powers for public speaking, the various ex- 
ercises proposed in this system should take 
place, not in particular seclusion, but in the 
presence of as many persons as can be convex 
niently assembled. The efficacy of speaking 
or reciting before many others, in overcoming 
too much diffidence, may be observed in the 
annual exhibitions at some of the public 
schools. 

Having thus stated the principles and system 
upon which the following work has beeu 

c 5 



XXXIV 

formed, I trust that I may be allowed at least 
the praise that is due for good intention, as well 
as for industrious solicitude to attain a desirable 
object. The first attempt to bring a valuable ac- 
complishment within practical tuition, has 
strong claims on liberality. Whether I have 
been successful in forming a method of instruc- 
tion in this important art, I must leave to be 
determined by the judgment of others. But 
even if it shall appear, that the system now 
suggested, is inadequate to the full extent which 
it proposes, I shall nevertheless feel considera- 
ble satisfaction, if it be found susceptible of 
improvement; and, that thus assisted, it finally 
accomplish the beneficial end for which it has 
been designed. 



ADVERTISEMENT. 

IT may not be improper to remark, that 
there will be no danger or impropriety in trust- 
ing this book with students. The instructor 
can choose any one of the selections or subjects 
proposed in the several parts of this work, and 
it will therefore be impossible for the pupils to 
ascertain which example may be chosen for the 
next exercise. Indeed if each division of the 
book were to be used previously as a common 
reading 1 lesson, it would relieve young minds, 
from what perhaps may be .considered too great 
an effort for some memories. 

The introduction has also been written with 
greater regard to perspicuity than elegance, in 
order that young persons may have an oppor- 
tunity of considering the nature and utility of 
the art. 

It need hardly be suggested, that students 
should have some acquaintance with grammar, 
and have had some practice in written compo- 
sition, before the attainment of ex-tempore dis- 
cussion be attempted. 



THE ART 



EXTEMPORE PUBLIC SPEAKING. 



PART THE FIRST 



JqEFORE the student can attempt to become an 
orator, he must be sure that he is a good reader. 
Trifling and unimportant as the necessary talents 
merely for a good reader may seem, yet they are 
amongst the fundamental requisites of a good speaker. 

Clear articulation, proper accent, judicious empha- 
sis, and suitable tones, are not to be acquired with- 
out patient and diligent attention. 

The practice of recitation requires something 
more— it needs graceful and suitable gesture. Ex- 
tempore speaking also must be accompanied by pro- 
per action. 



38 

As the requisites therefore for good reading and 
recitation, are so indispensable to a public speaker, 
the first part of this work contains a system of rules 
and illustrations for the purpose of facilitating these 
attainments. 

The student must not despise the simplicity of the 
earlier exercises. It was necessary to provide a sys- 
tem as nearly perfect as circumstances would allow; 
and therefore no part of the discipline for reading and 
recitation could have been correctly omitted : besides, 
as there must be some beginning, where could we 
have commenced more properly than at the true and 
rational foundation ? 

Rule 1. — Pronounce the following words 
clearly and distinctly; but no more than one 
word with the same breath. Let there be an 
interval of silence after each; and by no means 
carry on a humming sound, or a drawling tone, 
from one word to another. 

Har-mon-y. Sol-i-tude. 

Hap-pi-ness. Straw-ber-ry. 

In-no-cence. Syc-o-phant. 

Or-na-ment. Wil-der-ness, 

Night-in-gale* Ac-qui-esce. 

Par-a-dise. Ap-pre-hend. 

Pi-e-ty, Car-a-van. 

Riv-u-let. Cav-al-cade. 



39 



Cor-re-spond. 

En-ter-tain. 

In-tro-duce. 

Mag-a-zine. 

Mas-quer-ade. 

Pal-i-sade. 

Vi-o-lin. 

Vol-un-teer. 

Am-bas-sa-dor. 

As-par-a-gus. 

Bar-bar-i-ty. 

Be-nev-o-lence. 

En-cour-age-ment, 

For-get-ful-ness. 

Im-mu-ni-ty. 

Mag-nan-i-mous. 

No-bil-i-ty. 

O-be-di-ence. 

Pre-em-in-ence. 

Tran-quil-li-ty. 

Dis-crim~i-na-tion. 

Fig-u-ra-tive-ly . 

Ne-ces-sa-ri-ly. 

Pro-fit-a-ble-nesSo 

Em-phat-i-cal-]y. 

E-nun-ci-a-tion. 

Aux-il-i-a-ry. 

In-ex-o-ra-ble. 



Re-pps-i-to-ry. 

Phi-lo-so-phi-cal. 

Mis-cel-la-ne-ous. 

Ac-a-dem-i-cal. 

Af-fa-bil-i-ty. 

Mag-na-nim-i-ty. 

Cha-rac-ter-is-tic. 

As-si-du-i-ty. 

Ad-min-i-stra-tor. 

Ec-cle-si-as-tic. 

Su-per-a-bun-dant. 

Re-com-mea-da-tion. 

Con-ve-ni-ent-ly. 

Phi-lan-thro-pi-cah 

Sanc-ti-fi-ca-tion. 

Non-con-form-i-ty, 

In-dus-tri-ous-ly, 

Per-spi-ca-ci-ty. 

Hy-dro-pho-bi-a. 

In-flam-ma-to-ry, 

Dis-sim-u-la-tiorio 

An-ni-hi-la-tion. 

Im-proba-bi-li-ty. 

Con-cil-i-a-tor-y. 

Con-gr^t-ul-a-tor-y, 

Ex-pos-tul-a-tor-y* 

Sus-cep-ti-bil-i-ty, 

Per-son-i-fi-ca-tion, 



40 



In-ter-loc-u-tor-y. 

In-ter-rog-a-tor-y. 

Rec-om-mend-a-tor-y. 

Me-ta-phor-i-cal-ly. 

Al-le-gor-i-cal-ly. 

An-te-di-lu-vi-an. 

Pu-sil-la-nim-i-ty. 

Gen-er-al-is-si-mo. 

ln-ter-rog-a-tive-ly. 

Re-ca-pit-u-la-tion. 

Ir-re-sist-i-bil-i-ty. 

Per-pen-dic-ul-ar-i-ty. 



Val-e-tu-di-na-ri-an. 

Im-pe-ne-tra-bi-li-ty. 

In-ter-co-lum-ni-a-tion. 

Ple-ni-po-ten-ti-a-ry. 

E-ty-mo-lo-gi-cal-ly. 

An-ti-tri-ni-ta-ri-an. 

In-con-sid-er-a-ble-ness. 

Hi-er-o-gly-phy-cal-ly. 

In-cor-rup-ti-bi-li-ty. 

An-ti-pes-ti-len-ti-al. 

In-con-tro-ver-ti-bi-li-ty. 

In-com-pre-hen-si-bi-li-ty. 



Rule 2. — Avoid pronouncing v for w j and 
w for v. For this purpose, read the following- 
words distinctly. 



Vail. - 


- Wail. 


Weal. - - 


Veal. 


Vane. - 


- Wane. 


Woeful. - 


Vocal. 


Vary. - 


- Wary. 


Wolf. - - 


Volatile. 


Vent. - 


- Went. 


Workman. - 


Vermicelli. 


Verse. - 


- Worse. 


World. - - 


Verily. 


Vest. - 


- West. 


Worship. - 


Verdure. 


Vicar. - 


- Wicker. 


Womanhood. 


Vehemence 


Vile, - 


- Wile. 


Waterfall. - 


Vatican. 


Vine. - 


- Wine. 


Well-wisher. 


Vellication. 


Vizard. 


- Wizard. 


Valley. - - 


Wallet. 


We. * 


v V. 


Volley. - „ 


Wallow, 



41 



Vast. - 


- Waste. 


Witticism. 


Vivifj. 


Vault. - 


- Walk. 


Work. - [ - 


Vogue. 


Velvet. - 


- Welcome. 


Word. - - 


Verb. 


Vigil. - ■ 


• Wig. 


Worm. - - 


Vermin. 


Villa. - - 


Wilderness. 


Worthy. 


Vertical. 


Villain. - ■ 


. Wilful. 


Won. ~" - - 


Vaunt. 


Village. 


Willing. 


Wilderness 


Violence 


Vindicate. ■ 


■ Wind. 


Warmish. - 


Varnish. 


Witness. - 


Vicious. 


Waterman. 


Votary. 



For the like purpose, let these sentences be often 
repeated. " I like white wine vinegar with veal very 
well." " A versifier wants a very wonderful variety 
of words." " Wander whereveryou would, worthy 
and valued women were viewed walking, and visit- 
ing the various works." 

Rule 3. — Take care to sound the aspirates 
h, and wlu For this purpose, read the fol- 
lowing words distinctly. 



Aft. - - 


- Haft. 


Eel. - ■ 


- Heel. 


Ail. - - 


- Hail. 


Ell. - ■ 


■ - Hell. 


Air. - 


- - Hair. 


Elm. - 


■ - Helm 


Ale. - • 


• - Hale. 


M. - ■ 


- - Hem. 


All. - • 


- - Hall. 


N. - • 


• - Hen. 


Alter. 


- - Halter. 


Yew. - • 


■ - Hew. 


Am. - 


- - Ham. 


Eye. - • 


• - High. 



42 



And* - ■ 


• - Hand. 


111.. - ■ 


■ - Hill. 


Are. - 


• - Hare. 


Is. - 


- - His. 


Ark. - ■ 


• - Hark. 


It. - 


- - Hit. 


Arm. - « 


* - Harm. 


Oar. - 


- - Hoar. 


Arrow. ■ 


- - Harrow. 


Odd. - 


- - Hodd. 


Art. - • 


• - Hart. 


Old. - 


. . Hold. 


Ash. - 


- - Hash. 


Owes. 


- - Hose. 


Asp. - « 


- - Hasp. 


Our. - 


• - Hour. 


At. - 


- - Hat. 


Wale.- ■ 


- - Whale. 


Ear. - - 


■ - Hear. 


Weal. - 


■ - Wheel. 


Eat. - n 


- - Heat. 


Were. 


- Where. 


Eave - - 


• - Heave. 


Wet. - - 


- Whet. 


Edge. 


• - Hedge. 


Wine. 


- Whine. 



For the like purpose, let these sentences be often 
repeated. u Let the soup be heated, before I eat 
it." " Hail ye high ministers of Heaven ! how hap- 
py are we in hearing these your heavenly tidings!" 
" How I hate, how I abhor such hell hounds !" 
" Hope, open thou his ear to hear." u Guide thine 
eye to look on high." " Teach thine heart, the holy 

art of humbly hearing truth." 
» 
Short sentences, to be pronounced clearly and dis- 
tinctly with a full stop, and an interval of perfect si- 
lence between them. 

A woody country. A thatched cottage. 

A gloomy forest. A little town. 



i3 



An aged oak. 

A nodding beech. 

A shadv srrove. 

A ragged rock. 

A high mountain. 

A rapid river. 

A winding stream. 

A crystal lake. 

A fertile vale. 

A charming prospect. 



A country church. 
A ruined abbey. 
A stately tower. 
An old castle. 
A rural seat. 
A splendid palace. 
A royal park. 
A flowery lawn. 
A large orchard. 
A fine garden. 



God made all things. 

His works demonstrate his existence. 

He is the source of all felicity. 

He provides for every creature. 

The least insect is the object of his care. 

He is present in every region of nature. 

He sees all our actions. 

He knows our private thoughts. 

The heavens proclaim his glory. 

His dominions are unbounded. 

He governs innumerable worlds. 

He encircles the universe irrhis arms, 

The earth is a planet. 

The earth turns round its axis. 

The sun is in the centre. 

The sun is the source of light. 

The planets are other worlds. 



I^IHHH 



44 

The fixed stars are other suns. 

Space has no limits. 

The creation is a scene of wonders. 

The bee collects honey from the flowers. 

The silkworm spins a thread from her bowels. 

The spider weaves a curious web. 

The ant lays up stores for winter. 

The mole makes her apartments under ground. 

The rabbit forms her grotto in the hill. 

Rule 4. — Pronounce every word, consisting of 
more syllables than one, with its proper accent. 

Accent means a peculiar manner of distinguishing 
one syllable from the rest. This distinction is made 
in two ways ; either by dwelling longer on one syllable 
than on the rest; or by giving a smarter percussion 
of the voice in utterance. Of the former, we have 
instances in the words glory, father, holy ; of the 
latter, in bdttle, hab'it, bor'row. It may therefore 
be observed, that the essence of a syllable consists in 
articulation ; the essence of a word consists in accent 
as well as articulation. 

In accenting words, care should be taken to avoid 
all affected deviations from common usage. Let the 
accent therefore be always placed on the same sylla- 
ble, and on the same letter of the svllable that are 
usual in common discourse. 

Accent, seems to be regulated in a great measure 
by etymology. In words from the Saxon, the ac* 



1 



45 

cent is generally on the root ; in words from the 
learned languages, it is generally on the termination ; 
and if to these we add ttie different accent we lay on 
some words, to distinguish them from others, we seem 
to have the three great principles of accentuation; 
namely, the radical, the termiriatianal, and the dis- 
ti??ctive. The radical : as, " Love, lovely, loveli- 
ness ;" the terminational : as, " Harmony, harmo- 
nious; the distinctive: as u Convert, to convert/' 

ACCENT OX DISSYLLABLES. 

Words of two syllables, have necessarily one of 
them accented, and but one. It is true, for the sake 
of emphasis, we sometimes lay an equal stress upon 
two successive syllables ; as, " Di-rect, some- 
times ;" but when these words are pronounced alone, 
they have never more than one accent. The word 
" a-men," is the only word which is pronounced 
with two accents when alone. 

Of dissyllables, formed by affixing a termination, 
the former syllable is commonly accented : as, 
" Childish, kingdom, actest, acted, toilsome, lover, 
scoffer, fairer, foremost, zealous, fulness, meekly, 
artist." 

Dissyllables formed by prefixing a syllable to the 
radical word, have commonly the accent on the 
latter : as, " To beseem, to bestow, to return." 

Of dissyllables, which are at once nouns and verbs, 



HH^ 



46 

the verb hag commonly the accent on the latter, and 
the noun on the former syllable : as, " To cement, 
a cement; to contract; a contract; to presage, a 
presage." 

This rule has many exceptions. Though verbs 
seldom have their accent on the former, yet nouns 
often have it on the latter syllable : as, " Delight, 
perfume." Those nouns which, in the common or- 
der of language, must have preceded the verbs, often 
transmit their accent to the verbs they form, and in- 
versely. Thus, the noun " water" must have pre- 
ceded the verb " to water," as the verb u to cor- 
respond •:" must have preceded the noun. u corres- 
pondent :" and " to pursue" claims priority to u pur- 
suit." So that we may conclude, wherever verbs 
deviate from the rule, it is seldom by chance, and 
generally in those words only where a superior law 
of accent takes place. 

All dissyllables ending in j/, our, ow, le } ish, ck> ter y 
age, en, et : as, " Cranny, labour, willow, wallow;" 
except "allow, avow, endow, below, bestow;" 
battle, banish, cambrick, batter, courage, fasten, 
quiet ;" accent the former syllable. 

Dissyllable nouns in er, as, " Canker, butter," 
have the accent on the former syllable. 

Dissyllable verbs, terminating in a consonant and 
e final, as, " Comprise, escape;" or having a diph- 
thong in the last spllable, as, " Appease, reveal ;" 



47 

or ending in two consonants ; as, M Attend !" have 
the accents on the latter syllable. 

Dissyllable nouns, having' a diphthong in the latter 
syllable, have commonly their accent on the latter 
syllable; as, " Applause ;" except some words in 
ain : as, " Villain, curtain, mountain." 

Dissyllables that have two vowels, which are sepa- 
rated in the pronunciation, have always the accent 
on the first syllable : as, " Lion, riot, quiet, liar, 
ruin ;" except create. 

ACCENT ON TRISYLLABLES. 

Trisyllables formed by adding a termination, or 
prefixing a syllable, retain the accent of the radical 
word : as, " Loveliness, tenderness, contemner, 
waggoner, phy'sical, bespatter, commenting, com- 
mending, assurance." 

Trisyllables* ending in ous P al, ion : as, c< 'Arduous, 
capital, mention," accent the first. 

Trisyllables ending in ce, ent, and ate, accent the 
first syllable ; as, cc Countenance, continence, arma- 
ment, imminent, elegant, propagate ;" unless they 
are derived from words having the accent on the 
last : as, " Connivance, acquaintance ;" and unless 
the middle syllable has a vowel before two conso- 
nants ; as, "Promulgate." 

Trisyllables ending in y, as, " 'Entity, specify, 
liberty, victory, subsidy," commonly accent the first 
syllable. 

Trisyllables in re or /e, accent the first syllable : 



48 

as, u Legible, theatre ;" except " Disciple," and 
some words which have a preposition : as, " Exam- 
ple, indenture." 

Trisyllables ending- in tide, commonly accent the 
first syllable : as, " Plenitude, habitude, recti- 
tude." 

Trisyllables ending in ator, have the accent on the 
middle syllable; as, " Spectator, creator," &c. ; ex- 
cept " orator, senator, barrator, legator." 

Trisyllables which have in the middle syllable a 
diphthong, as, u Endeavour ;" or a vowel before 
two consonants; as, " Domestic; accent the middle 
syllable. 

Trisyllables that have their accent on the last 
syllable, are commonly French : as, " Acquiesce, 
repartee, magazine ;" or they are words formed by 
prefixing one or two syllables to a long syllable ; as, 
" Immature, overcharge." 

ACCENT ON POLYSYLLABLES. 

Polysyllables, or words of more than three sylla- 
bles, generally follow the accent of the words from 
which they are derivpd : as, " Arrogating, continen- 
ey, incontinently, commendable, communicableness." 

Words ending in ator have the accent generally on 
the penultimate, or last syllable but one; as " Emen- 
dator, gladiator, equivocator, prevaricator." 

Words ending in le commonly have the accent on 



49 

the first syllable : as, <• 'Amicable, despicable :" unless 
the second syllable has a vowel before two conso- 
nants : as, " Combustible, condeinnable." 

Words ending in ion, ous, and ty 9 have their accent 
on the last syllable but two : as " Salvation, victori- 
ous activity." 

Words which end in ia, io and cal have the accent 
on the last syllable but one : as, " Cyclopce dia, 
punctilio, despotical." These rules on accent, are 
not advanced as complete, but proposed as useful. 

EMPHASIS. 

Rule 5. — In every sentence distinguish the 
more significant words, by a natural and forci- 
ble emphasis. 

There are in every sentence certain words which 
have a greater share in conveying the speaker's mean- 
ing than the rest; and are on this account distin- 
guished by the forcible manner in which they are ut- 
tered. This stress or emphasis serves to unite words 
and form them into sentences. By giving the several 
parts of a sentence their proper utterance, it discovers 
their mutual dependence, and conveys their full im- 
port to the mind of the hearer. 

Every one who clearly comprehends what he says 
in private discourse, never fails to lay the emphasis 
on the right word] when therefore he is about to read 

D 



50 

or repeat the words of others or his own, in public ; 
let him only reflect on the place where he would lay 
the emphasis; supposing those words had proceeded 
from the immediate sentiment of his own mind in 
private discourse. 

Every one, also, should content himself with the 
use of those tones only that he is habituated to in 
speech; and give none other to emphasis but what 
he would do to the same words in discourse. Thus, 
whatever he utters, will be done with ease, and ap- 
pear natural ; whereas, if he endeavour at any tones 
to which he is not accustomed, either from fancy or 
imitation of others, it will be done with difficulty, and 
carry with it evident marks of affectation and art, 
which are ever disgusting to the hearer, and never 
fail to defeat the end of the reader or speaker. 

The most comon faults respecting emphasis, are, 
that of laying so strong an emphasis upon one word, 
as to leave no power of giving a particular force to 
other words — which, though not equally, are, in a 
certain degree, emphatical : and that of placing the 
greatest stress on conjunctive particles, and other 
words of secondary importance. 

As accent dignifies the syllable on which it is laid, 
and makes it more distinguished by the ear than the 
rest, so emphasis ennobles the word to which it be- 
longs, and presents it in a stronger light to the un- 
derstanding. Were there no accents, words would 



51 

be resolved into their original syllables : were there 
no emphasis, sentences would be resolved into their 
original words ; and, in this case, the hearer would 
be under the painful necessity, firs*, of making out 
the words, and afterwards, their meaning. 

Emphasis is of two kinds, simple and complex. 
Simple, when it serves to point out only the plain 
meaning of any proposition; complex, when, besides 
the meaning, it marks also some affection or emotion 
of the mind ; or gives a meaning to words, which 
they would not have in their usual acceptation. In 
the former case, emphasis is scarcely more than a 
stronger accent, with little or no change of tone ; 
when it is complex, besides force, there is always 
superadded a manifest change of tone. 

The following sentence contains an example of 
simple emphasis: " And Nathan said to David, 
i Thou art the man."' The emphasis on thou, serves 
only to point out the meaning of the speaker. But 
in the sentence which follows, we perceive an emo- 
tion of the speaker superadded to the simple mean- 
ing : " Why will ye die ?" 

As the emphasis often falls on words in different 
parts of the same sentence, so it is frequently re- 
quired to be continued, with a little variation, on 
two, and sometimes three words together. The fol- 
lowing sentence exemplifies both the parts of this 
position : " If you seek to make one rich, study not 

d2 



52 

to increase his stores, but to diminish his desires.*" 
Emphasis may be further distinguished, into the 
weaker and the stronger emphasis. In the sentence, 
a Exercise and temperance strengthen the consti- 
tution;" we perceive more force on the word 
strengthen, than on any other; though it is not 
equal to the stress which we apply to the word indif* 
ferent, in the following sentence : " Exercise and 
temperance strengthen even an indifferent constitu- 
tion." It is also proper to remark, that the words 
exercise, temperance, constitution, in the last example 
but one, are pronounced with greater force, than the 
particles and and the ; and yet those words cannot 
properly be called emphatical : for the stress that 
is laid on them, is no more than sufficient to convey 
distinctly the meaning of each word. — From these 
observations it appears, that the smaller parts of 
speech, namely, the articles, conjunctions, preposi- 
tions, &c. are, in general, obscurely and feebly ex- 
pressed ; that the substantives, verbs, and more sig- 
nificant words, are firmly and distinctly pronounced; 
and that the emphatical words, those which mark 
the meaning of a phrase, are pronounced with pecu- 
liar stress and energy, though varied according to the 
degree of their importance. 

Emphasis changes, not only the quantity of words 
and syllables, but also, in particular cases, the seat 
of the accent. This is demonstrable from the follow- 



i 



53 

ing examples. S He shall increase, but I shall de- 
crease." " There is a difference between giving 
and forgiving" " In this species of composition, 
^feasibility is much more essential than probability." 
In these examples, the emphasis requires the accent 
to be placed on syllables, to which it does not com- 
monly belong. 

There is one error, against which it is particularly 
proper to caution the learner ; namely, that of mul- 
tiplying emphatical words too much. It is only by 
a prudent reserve in the use of them, that we can 
give them any weight. If they recur too often ; if 
a speaker or reader attempts to render every thing 
which he expresses of high importance, by a multi- 
tude of strong emphases, we soon learn to pay little 
regard to them. To crowd every sentence with 
emphatical words, is like crowding all the pages of a 
book with Italic characters, which, as to the effect, 
is just the same as to use no such distinctions at all. 



PAUSES. 

Rule 6.— Relieve your voice at every stop ; 
slightly at a comma, more leisurely at a semi- 
colon, still more so at a colon, and completely 
at a period. But support your voice steadily 
and firmly, and pronounce the concluding 



M 

words of the sentence with force and vivacity, 
rather than with a languid cadence. 

Pauses are not only necessary to enable the reader 
or speaker to take breath without inconvenience; 
but in order also to give the hearer a distinct percep- 
tion of the construction and meaning of each sen* 
tence, and a clear understanding of the whole. 

In all reading, and public speaking, the. manage- 
ment of the breath requires a good deal of care, so as 
not to oblige us to divide words from one another, 
which have so intimate a connection, that they ought 
to be pronounced with the same breath, and without 
the least separation. Many sentences are greatly 
injured, and the force of the emphasis totally lost, by 
the divisions being made in the wrong place. To 
avoid this, every one, while he is speaking or read- 
ing, should be careful to provide a full supply of 
breath for what he is to utter. It is a great mistake 
to imagine that the breath must be drawn only at 
the end of a period. It may easily be gathered at 
the intervals of the period, when the voice is only 
suspended for a moment ; and, by this management, 
one may always have a sufficient stock for carrying 
on the longest sentence without improper inter- 
ruption. 

Pauses in reading and public discourse, must be 
formed upon the manner in which we express our* 



55 



selves in ordinary sensible conversation; and not 
upon any stiff artificial manner which is sometimes 
acquired. 



THE VOICE. 

Rule 7. — Begin gently. Let the tone of 
your voice, in reading and speaking, be natural 
and easy. 

Rule 8.— Increase the force of your voice, 
so that you may he heard by the most distant 
person in the room. Bur do not bawl: a clear 
articulation and moderate force of voice will 
be sufficient. 

Rule 9. — If the voice should have imper- 
ceptibly become too loud, begin the next sen- 
tence with a much lower tone. 

Rule 10. — Vary your voice according to the 
nature of the subject \ the solemn, the serious, 
the vehement, the familiar, the gay, the hu- 
morous, or the ironical. 



56 

GESTURE. 
Gesture for Reading. 

Rule 11. — Rest the whole weight of the 
body on the right leg; the other just touching 
the ground, at the distance at which it would 
naturally fall, if lifted up to shew that the 
body does not bear upon it. Let the knees be 
straight : and the body straight (yet not per- 
pendicular) but inclining to the right. 

Rule 12,— -Hold the book in the left hand. 

Rule 13. — Look at those who are hearing as 
often as possible : but do not lose the place or 
forget the words. 

Rule 14. — Elevate the right hand when any 
thing sublime, lofty, or heavenly, is expressed. 

Rule 15, — Let the right hand (but not any 
single finger) point downwards, when any 
thing low or grovelling is expressed. 



Gesture for Speaking. 

Rule 16. — Begin as in reading 1 . Let the 
whole weight of the body rest on the right leg; 
the other just touching the ground, at the 
distance at which it would naturally fall, if 
lifted up to shew that the body does not bear 
upon it. Let the knees be straight and firm, 
and the body straight, yet not perpendicular, 
but inclining to the right. Let both arms 
hang in their natural place by the side* 

Rule 17. — Immediately after the first word 
has been spoken, let the right arm be held out, 
the palm open, the fingers straight and close, 
the thumb almost as distant from them as pos- 
sible, and the flat of the hand neither vertical 
or horizontal, but between both* 

Rule 18.— When one sentence has been pro- 
nounced in this position; and during the 
utterance of the last word, the right hand, as 
if lifeless, must drop down to the side* 

Rule 19. — At the beginning of the second 

d5 



58 

sentence ; the body, without moving- the feet, 
must poise itself, on the left leg ; the left hand 
must be raised exactly as the right one was be- 
fore, and continue in this position till the end 
of the sentence, and then drop as if lifeless. 

Rule 20. — At the third sentence, the body 
and hands to be as they were during the 
first ; and so on alternately during the whole 

of the speech, 

■ ♦ 

Rule 21. — Take care to end each sentence 
completely, before the next is begun. 

Rule 22. — Tn vehement, or otherwise im- 
passioned passions, raise the arm which is in 
action, until it be on a level with the shoulder : 
let the lower part of the arm (that is, from the 
elbow joint) be inclined toward the head, in 
the same manner as when taking off the hat ; 
and let the arm be suddenly straightened into 
its first position the very moment the empha- 
tical word is pronounced. 

Rule 23. — In every movement of the arm, 
keep the elbow at a distance from the body. 



59 

Rule 24. — Let the eyes be directed to those 
who are addressed ; excepting when the sub- 
ject requires them to be raised. 

Rule 25.— -Endeavour to enter into the sense 
and spirit of every passage, and feel what is 
expressed. This is the best guide to empha- 
sis, tone, and gesture. 

SENTENCES DIVIDED BY A COMMA. 

Prosperity gains friends, and adversity tries them. 

Sincerity and trnth, form the basis of every virtue, 

No knowledge can be attained, but by study. 

If you would be free from sin, avoid temptation. 

By the faults of others, wise men correct their 
own. 

Loose conversation operates on the soul, as poison 
does on the body. 

Do to others, as you would have others do to 
you. 

Be more ready to forgive, than to return an injury. 

When our vices leave us, we flatter ourselves we 
leave them. 

If you would be revenged on your enemies^ let 
your life be blameless. 



60 

He must be utterly abandoned, who disregards the 
good opinion of the world. 

Religion does not require a gloomy, but a cheer- 
ful aspect. 

Your countenance will be agreeable, in proportion 
to the goodness of your heart. 

Disappointments and distress, are often blessings 
in disguise. 

It is wiser to prevent a quarrel before-hand, than 
to revenge it afterwards. 



SENTENCES DIVIDED BY TWO OR THREE COMMAS. 

They who have nothing to give, can often afford 
relief to others, by imparting what they feel. 

Ingratitude is a crime so shameful, that the man 
was never yet found, who would acknowledge him- 
self guilty of it. 

As you value the approbation of Heaven, or the 
esteem of the world, cultivate the love of virtue. 

Be armed with courage against thyself, against 
thy passions, and against flatterers. 

Riches, honours, pleasures, steal away the heart 
from religion. 

Forget not, that the brightest part of thy life is 
nothing but a flower, which withers almost as soon 
sub it has blown. 



61 

Prepare for thyself, by the purity of thy manners, 
and thy love of virtue, a place in the happy seats of 
peace. 

Moral and religious instruction derives its efficacy, 
not so much from what men are taught to know, as 
from what they are brought to feel. 

To be wise in our own eyes, to be wise in the 
opinion of the world, and to be wise in the sight of 
our Creator, seldom coincide. 

A temperate spirit and moderate expectations, are 
excellent safeguards of the mind, in this uncertain, 
and changing state. 

SENTENCES DIVIDED BY SEVERAL COMMAS. 

The external misfortunes of life, disappointments^ 
poverty, and sickness, are light in comparison with 
those inward distresses of mind, occasioned by folly, 
by passion, and by guilt. 

Every leaf, every twig, every drop of water, teems 
with life. 

In the least insect there are muscles, nerves, joint?, 
veins, arteries, and blood. 

Luxury, pride, and vanity, have much influence 
in corrupting the sentiments of the great. 

Ignorance, bigotry, and prejudice, have much in- 
fluence in corrupting the opinions of the multitude. 

Vapours are formed into clouds, dew, mist, rail?, 
snow, hail, and other meteors. 



62 

The colours in the rain-bow are violet, indigo r 
blue, green, yellow, orange, red. 

The earth is adorned with a beautiful variety of 
mountains, hills, vallies, plains, seas, lakes, rivers, 
trees, flowers, plants, and animals. 

Human society, requires distinctions of property, 
diversity of conditions, subordination of ranks, and 
a multiplicity of occupations, in order to advance the 
general good. 

No station is so high, no power so great, no cha- 
racter so unblemished, as to exempt men from the 
attacks of rashness, malice, or envy. 

The astonishing multiplicity of created beings, the 
wonderful laws of nature, the beautiful arrangement 
of the heavenly bodies, the elegance of the vegetable 
world, the operations of animal life, and the amaz- 
ing harmony of the whole creation, loudly proclaim 
the wisdom of the Deity. 

I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor 
angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things 
present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, 
nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us 
from the love of God. 

SENTENCES DIVIDED BY A SEMICOLON. 

Blame not before thou hast examined the truth; 
understand before thou dost rebuke. 



63 

Perform your duty faithfully; for this will procure 
you the blessing of Heaven. 

Make a proper use of your time ; for the loss of it 
can never be retrieved. 

A friend cannot be known in prosperity ; and an 
enemy cannot be hidden in adversity. 

Men's evil manners live in brass ; their virtues we 
write in water. 

Enjoy pleasure ; but enjoy it with moderation. 

Use no indecent language ; for indecency is want 
of sense. 

Sport not with pain and distress; nor use the 
meanest insect with wanton cruelty. 

Be not proud ; for pride is odious to God and 
man. 

Never value yourself upon your fortune ; for this 
is the sign of a weak mind. 

Envy not the appearance of happiness in any man ; 
for you know not his secret griefs. 

Murmur not at the afflictions you suffer; for afflic- 
tions maybe blessings in disguise. 

Innocence confers ease and freedom on the mind; 
and leaves it open to every pleasing sensation. 

The book is well written ; and I have perused it 
with pleasure and profit. 

Titles and ancestry render a good man illustrious; 
but an ill one more contemptible. 



64 



SENTENCES DIVIDED BY SEVERAL SEMICOLONS. 

The shadow of knowledge passeth over the mind 
of man as a dream ; he seeth as in the dark; he rea- 
soneth ; and is deceived. 

The wisdom of God is as the light of Heaven; he 
reasoneth not ; he is the fountain of truth. 

Every thing grows old ; every thing passes away ; 
every thing disappears. 

Yet the world is still renewed with fresh life and 
beauty; with a constant succession of trees and 
plants; with a new race of animals; with anew ge- 
neration of men. 

Every seed contains in it a plant of its own spe- 
cies ; this plant another seed ; this seed another little 
plant ; and so on without end. 

Various animals delight in various sorts of food; 
some in grass and herbs ; some in grain and seed ; 
some in flesh; some in insects. 

Some men are intent upon gathering riches; 
others endeavour to acquire reputation and honour ; 
a third sort are devoted to their pleasures; and a 
few are engaged in the nobler pursuits of learning 
and wisdom. 

SENTENCES DIVIDED BY A COLON. 

Put a bridle on thy tongue : set a guard upon thj 
lips. 



65 

Apply thyself to learning: it will redound to thy 
honour. 

Read the scriptures : they are the dictates of di- 
vine wisdom. 

Fear God : he is thy creator and preserver. 

Honour the King : he is the father of his people. 

Harbour no malice in thy heart : it will be a viper 
in thy bosom. 

Be upon thy guard against flattery : it is as insi- 
dious poison. 

Avoid affectation : it is a contemptible weakness. 

Do not despise human life : it is the gift of God. 

Do not insult a poor man : his misery entitles him 
to pity. 

All mankind want assistance : all therefore ought 
to assist. 

Cherish a spirit of benevolence : it is a godlike 
virtue. 

A tear is sometimes the indication of a noble mind: 
Jesus wept. 

A talkative man is a nuisance to society : the ear 
is sick of his babbling. 

The tongue of the sincere is rooted in his heart : 
hypocrisy and deceit have no place in his words. 

A wicked son is a reproach to his father : but he 
that doeth right is an honour to his grey hairs. 



66 



PARAGRAPHS DIVIDED BY SEVERAL PERIODS. 

Beware of the seducing appearances which sur- 
round you. Recollect what others have suffered 
from the power of headstrong desire. By any pas- 
sion your inward peace will be impaired. But any 
which has the taint of guilt, will ruin your tran- 
quillity. 

Every man has some darling passion which gene- 
rally affords the first introduction to vice. Irregular 
gratifications are cautiously indulged in the begin- 
ning. But the power of habit grows. One vice 
brings in another to its aid. By a sort of natural 
affinity they entwine themselves together. Their 
roots come to be spread throughout the soul. 

Truth is the basis of every virtue. It is the voice 
of reason. Let its precepts be religiously obeyed. 
Never transgress its limits. Every deviation from 
truth is criminal. Abbor a falsehood. Let your 
words be ingenuous. Sincerity possesses the most 
powerful charm. It acquires the veneration of man- 
kind. Its path is security and peace. It is accept- 
able to the Deity.-— Blessed are the pure in heart. 

Never adventure on too near an approach to what 
is evil. Familiarize not yourselves with it, without 
fear. Listen with reverence to every reprehension 
of conscience. Preserve the most quick and accurate 
sensibility to right and wrong. 



-67 

By disappointments and trials the violence of our 
passions is tamed. In the varieties of life, we are 
inured to habits both of the active and the suffering 
virtues. 

INTERROGATION. 

Rule 26. — An interrogation generally re- 
quires A longer stop than a period ; because 
an answer is either returned or implied ; and 
consequently a proper interval of silence is ne- 
cessarv. 

INTERROGATIVE SENTENCES ARE TO BE REAI> 
WITH AN ELEVATION OF THE VOICE, AS THEY 
ARE USUALLY SPOIvEN IN CONVERSATION. 

Have you seen your friend ? 
% Is lie better or worse ? 
What caused his accident? 
Is he able to ride ? 

Do you believe such a tale? 
Are yon so foolishly credulous ? 

Do you expect to deceive me ? 
Am I void of reason? 

What man will venture further ? 

Who then can charge me with cowardice ? 



M^H^HMBfl 



68 

Who dares to lift his arm ? 
Where can I find the wretch ? 

Who can view such misery without feeling pity i 
Who can restrain his tears? 

Do we not all need assistance ? 
Ought we to withhold our aid ? 

Wherein does happiness consist? 

In what scene of life is it to be found ? 

Is it to be purchased by riches ? 

Can we obtain it by power ? 

What think you of dress and equipage i 

What is your opinion of fame ? 

Does felicity consist in amusements ? 

Is it to be acquired by knowledge ? 

Is it not to be derived from religion ? 



SENTENCES CONSISTING OF INTERROGATIONS ANI> 

ANSWERS. 
I 

Which now of these three, was neighbour to him 
that fell among thieves ? He that shewed mercy to 
him. 

What is your favourite pursuit? The improve- 
ment of my mind. 

Can you forgive me, and be still my friend ? As 
firmly as I have ever been. 



69 

What could be the matter with me, an* please 
your honour ? Nothing in the world, Trim. 

How shall we manage it ? Leave it to me, said 
the corporal. 

Why shrinks the soul 
Back on herself, and startles at destruction ? 
'Tis the Divinity, that stirs within us. 

Where are you now ? and what is your amount ? 
Vexation, disappointment, and remorse. 

To purchase heav'n, has gold the pow'r? 
Can gold remove the mortal hour ? 
In life, can love be bought with gold ? 
Are friendship's pleasures to be sold ? 
No. All that's worth a wish or thought, 
Fair virtue gives unbrib'd, unbought. 

And where will you dry it, Maria ? I will dry it in 
my bosom. 

But where's the passage to the skies ? 
The road through death's black valley lies. 

Will all great Neptune's ocean, wash this blood 
clean from my hands ? No. 

Dost thou then love him better than thyself? No ; 
I love him as myself. 



70 



EXCLAMATION. 



Rule 27. — An exclamation requires an ele- 
vation of voice, and such a pause, as may seem 
to give room for a momentary reflection. 

Hear me, O Lord! for thy loving kindness is 
great ! 

How doth the city sit solitary that was full of peo- 
ple ! how is she become as a widow ! 

She that was great among the nations, and princess 
among the provinces, how is she become tributary ! 

Fathers ! Senators of Rome 1 the arbiters of na- 
tions ! to you I fly for refuge. 

I'll call thee, Hamlet ! 
King! Father! Royal Dane! oh! answer me! 
Eternity ! thou pleasing dreadful thought ! 
How much vanity is in the pursuits of men ! 
Live! live! ye incomparable pair ! 
What a noble scene is before us ! 
How charming is the face of nature ! 

Behold the daughter of innocence ! 

What a look ! what beauty ! what sweetness ! 

Behold a great and good man ! 

What majesty! how graceful! how commanding ! 

O venerable shade ! O illustrious hero ! 

Behold the effects of virtue ! 



71 

Leave me, oh ! leave me to repose ! 

I am stripped of all my honours ! I lie prostrate 
on the earth ! 

Farewell! a long farewell to all my greatness ! 

It stands, solid and entire ! but it stands alone ! 
and it stands amidst ruins ! 

How glorious are the works of God ! 

How presumptuous is man ! 

THE DASH. 

Rule 28. — The dash requires a pause some- 
what less than a period. The pause should 
come upon the hearer unexpectedly; and 
therefore there should be no preparatory in- 
flection of the voice. 

Here lies the great — false marble, where ? 
Nothing but sordid dust lies here. 

When the poor victims were bayonetted clinging 
round the knees of the soldiers ! would my friend — 
but I cannot pursue the strain of interrogation ! 

If thou art he, so much respected once — but oh! 
how fallen. 

I despaired at first, said the corporal, of being able 
to bring back your honour any kind of intelligence 
concerning the poor lieutenant — Is he of the army 
then ? said my Uncle Toby* 

5 



72 

Base as thou'rt false — No. 

Art thou not — what ? — a traitor ? 

And God said — what ? — " let there be light !'* 
Yes, and a brave one, but — I know thy meaning. 
And longer had she sung — 'but, with a frown, Re- 
venge impatient rose. 

The manor Sir ? — " the manor — hold !" he cried, 
" Not that — I cannot part with that" — and died. 

PARENTHESIS. 

Rule 29. — In the following' examples, read 
the former part of each sentence with a tone, 
suitable to the nature of the subject, and make 
a short pause with a suspended voice. In the 
parenthesis, lower your voice and proceed 
more quickly. After the parenthesis is con- 
cluded, assume the same elevation, with which 
you began. 

Know then this truth (enough for man to know) 
Virtue alone, is happiness belcw. 

Know ye not brethren (for I speak to them that 
knew the law) how that the law hath dominion over 
a man, as long as he liveth. 

Every planet (as the Creator has made nothing in 
vain) is most probably inhabited* 



73 

My dear friend (said he to Mentor) you save my 
honour ! 

Come (said she with a look of complacency) come 
into my habitation. 

This (replied the marchioness) is a painfiil sepa- 
ration. 

Remember (continued she with a sigh) your ab- 
sent friend. 

" An honest man (as Mr. Pope expresses himself) 
is the noblest work of God." 

" Pride (to use the emphatical words of a sacred 
writer) was not made for man." 

I have seen charity (if charity it may be called) 
insult with an air of pity. 

Life in general (for exceptions are extremely few) 
is thrown away in sloth and trifling. 

The Tyrians were the first (if we may believe 
what is told us by writers of high antiquity) who 
learned the art of navigation. 

I am happy, said he (expressing himself with the 
warmest emotion) infinitely happy, in seeing you 
return. 



74 



EXAMPLES FOR PRACTICE. 

Including solemn, serious, vehement, familiar, gay, and 
humorous Pieces. 

OMNISCIENCE OF THE DEITY. 

I was yesterday, about sun-set, walking in the 
open fields, till the night insensibly fell upon me. I at 
first amused myself with all the richness and variety 
of colours which appeared in the western parts of 
heaven. In proportion as they faded away and went 
out, several stars and planets appeared one after an- 
other, till the whole firmament was in a glow. The 
blueness of the ether was exceedingly heightened 
and enlivened, by the season of the year, and the rays 
of all those luminaries that passed through it. The 
galaxy appeared in its most beautiful white. To 
complete the scene, the full moon rose, at length, in 
that clouded majesty, which Milton takes notice of; 
and opened to the eye a new picture of nature, 
which was more finely shaded, and disposed among 
softer lights than that which the sun had before dis- 
covered to us. 

As I was surveying the moon walking in her 
brightness, and taking her progress ^mong the con- 
stellations, a thought arose in me, which I believe 
very often perplexes and disturbs men of serious and 
contemplative natures. David himself fell into it, in 



75 

that reflection ; " when I consider the heavens, the 
work of thy fingers ; the moon and the stars which 
thou hast ordained ; what is man that thou art mindful 
of him, and the son of man that thou regardest him ?" 
In the same manner, when I considered that infinite 
host of stars, or, to speak more philosophically, of 
suns, which were then shining upon me ; with those 
innumerable sets of planets or worlds, which were 
moving round their respective suns ; when I still en- 
larged the idea, and supposed another heaven of suns 
and worlds, rising still above this which we disco- 
vered ; and these still enlightened by a superior fir- 
mament of luminaries, which are planted at so great 
a distance, that they may appear to the inhabitants 
of the former, as the stars do to us ; in short, while 
I pursued this thought, I could not but reflect on that 
little insignificant figure which I myself bore amidst 
the immensity of God's works. 

Were the sun, which enlightens this part of the 
creation, with all the host of planetary worlds that 
move above him, utterly extinguished and annihilated, 
they would not be missed, more than a grain of sand 
upon the sea shore. The space they possess is so ex- 
ceedingly little in comparison of the whole, it would 
scarcely make a blank in the creation. The chasm 
would be imperceptible to an eye, that could take in 
the whole compass of nature, and pass from one end 
of the creation to the other ; as it is possible there mar 

e 2 



76 

be such a sense in ourselves hereafter, or in creatures 
which are at present more exalted than ourselves. — 
By the help of glasses, we see many stars, which we 
do not discover with our naked eyes ; and the finer 
our telescopes are, the more still are our discoveries. 
Huygenius carries this thought so far, that he does 
not think it impossible there may be stars, whose 
light has not yet travelled down to us, since their 
first creation. There is no question that the universe 
has certain bounds set to it : but when we consider 
that it is the work of infinite power, prompted by in- 
finite goodness with an infinite space to exert itself 
in, how can our imagination set any bounds to it ? 

CARDINAL WOLSEY. 

Farewell, a long farewell to all my greatness ! 
This is the state of man : to day he puts forth 
The tender leaves of hope ; to morrow blossoms, 
And bears his blushing honours thick upon him ; 
The third day comes a frost — a killing trost. 
And when he thinks, good easy man, full surely 
His greatness is a rip'ning, nips his shoot ; 
And then he falls, as I do. I have ventur'd, 
Like little wanton boys, that swim on bladders, 
These many summers in a sea of glory ; 
But far beyond my depth : my high-blown pride 
At length broke under me; and now has left me, 
Weary and old with service, to the mercy 



77 

Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me. 
Vain pomp and glory of the world, I hate ye ! 
I feel my heart new open'd. Oh, how wretched 
Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favours ! 
There is, betwixt that smile he would aspire to, 
That sweet aspect of princes, and his ruin, 
More pangs and fears than war or women have ; 
And when he fails, he falls like Lucifer, 
Never to hope again. 

REVERENCE GOD. 

Bow down your heads unto the dust, O ye inhabi- 
tants of earth ! be silent and receive, with reverence, 
instruction from on high. 

Wheresoever the sun doth shine, wheresoever the 
wind doth blow, wheresoever there is an ear to hear, 
and a mind to conceive ; there let the precepts of life 
be made known, let the maxims of truth be honoured 
and obeyed. 

All things proceed from God. His power is un- 
bounded, his wisdom is from eternity, and his good- 
ness en dure th for ever. 

He sitteth on his throne in the centre, and the 
breath of his mouth giveth life to the world. 

He toucheth the stars with his finger, and they run 
their course rejoicing. 

On the wings of the wind he walketh abroad, and 



78 

performeth his will through all the regions of unli- 
mited space. 

Order, and grace, and bounty, spring from his 
hai^d. 

The voice of wisdom speaketh in all his works ; 
but the human understanding comprehendeth it not. 

The shadow of knowledge passeth over the mind 
of man as a dream ; he seeth as in the dark ; he rea- 
soneth, and is often deceived. 

But the wisdom of God is as the light of heaven; 
he reasoneth not; his mind is the fountain of truth. 

Justice and mercy wait before his throne ; benevo- 
lence and love enlighten his countenance for ever. 

Who is like unto the Lord in glory ? Who in power 
shall contend with the Almighty ? Hath he any equal 
in wisdom ? Can any in goodness be compared unto 
him? 

He it is, O man ! who hath created thee : thy 
station on earth is fixed by his appointment: the 
powers of thy mind are the gift of his goodness : the 
wonders of thy frame are the work of his hand. 

Hear then his voice, for it is gracious ; and he that 
obeyeth, shall establish his soul in peace. 

MISFORTUNES IN LIFE. 

No sooner has any thing in the health, or in the 
circumstances of men, gone cross to their wish, than 



79 

tliey begin to talk of the unequal distribution of the 
good things of this life ; they envy the condition of 
others ; they repine at their own lot, and fret against 
the Ruler of the world. 

Full of these sentiments, one man pines under a 
broken constitution. But let us ask him, whether 
he can, fairly and honestly, assign no cause for this 
but the unknown decree of heaven ? Has he duly 
valued the blessing of health, and always observed 
the rules of virtue and sobriety ? Has he been mo- 
derate in his life, and temperate in all his pleasures ? 
If now he is only paying the price of his former^ 
perhaps his forgotten indulgences, has he any title 
to complain as if he were suffering unjustly ? Were 
we to survey the chambers of sickness and distress, 
we should often find them peopled with the victims 
of intemperance and sensuality, and with the children 
of vicious indolence and sloth. Among the thousands 
who languish there, we should find the proportion of 
innocent sufferers to be small. We should see faded 
youth, premature old age, and the prospect of an 
untimely grave, to be the portion of multitudes, who, 
in one way or other, have brought those evils on 
themselves ; while yet these martyrs of vice and folly, 
have the assurance to arraign the hard fate of man, 
and to " fret against the Lord/' 

But you, perhaps, complain of hardships of an- 
other kind ; of the injustice of the world ; of the po- 



80 

▼erty which you suffer, and the discouragements 
under which you labour ; of the crosses and disap- 
pointments of which your life has been doomed to be 
full. — Before you give too much scope to your dis- 
content, let me desire you to reflect impartially upon 
your past train of life. Has not sloth, or pride, or 
ill temper, or sinful passions, misled you often from 
the path of sound and wise conduct ? Have you not 
been wanting to yourselves, in improving those op- 
portunities which Providence offered you, for bet- 
tering and advancing your state ? If you have chosen 
to indulge your humour, or your taste, in the grati- 
fication of indolence or pleasure, can you complain 
because others, in preference to you, have obtained 
those advantages which naturally belong to useful 
labours, and honourable pursuits ? Have not the 
consequences of some false steps, into which yout 
passions, or your pleasures, have betrayed you, pur- 
sued you through much of your life ; tainted, perhaps, 
your characters, involved you in embarrassments, or 
sunk you into neglect? — It is an old saying, that 
every man is the artificer of his own fortune in the 
world. It is certain, that the world seldom turns 
wholly against a man, unless through his own fault. 
<c Religion is," in general, " profitable unto all things." 
Virtue, diligence, and industry, joined with good 
temper and prudence, have ever been found the surest 
road to prosperity ; and where men fail of attaining it, 



81 

their want of success is far oftener owing to their 
having deviated from that road, than to their having 
encountered insuperable bars in it. Some, by being 
too artful, forfeit the reputation of probity. Some^ 
by being too. open, are accounted to fail in prudence. 
Others, by being fickle and changeable, are dis- 
trusted by all. The case commonly is, that men seek 
to ascribe their disappointments to any cause, rather 
than to their own misconduct; and when they can 
devise no other cause, they lay them to the charge of 
Providence. Their folly leads them into vices ; their 
vices into misfortunes ; and in their misfortunes they 
" murmur against Providence." They are doubly 
unjust towards their Creator. In their prosperity, 
they are apt to ascribe their success to their own di- 
ligence, rather than to his blessing : and in their ad- 
versity, they impute their distresses to his providence, 
not to their own misbehaviour. Whereas, the truth 
is the very reverse of this. u Every good and every 
perfect gift cometh from above;" and of evil and mi- 
sery, man is the author to himself. 

CALISTHENEs's REPROOF OF CLEON's FLATTERY 
TO ALEXANDER. 

If the king were present, Cleon, there would be 
no need of my answering to what you have just pro- 
posed. He would himself reprove you for endea- 

e 5 



82 

vouring to draw him into an imitation of foreign 
absurdities, and for bringing envy upon him by such 
unmanly flattery. As he is absent, I take upon me 
to tell you, in his name, that no praise is lasting bat 
what is rational ; and that you do what you can to 
lessen his glory, instead of adding to it. Heroes have 
never, among us, been deified, till after their death. 
And whatever may be your way of thinking, Cleon, 
for my part, I wish the king may not, for many years 
to come, obtain that honour. You have mentioned, 
as precedents of what you propose, Hercules and 
Bacchus. Do you imagine, Cleon, that they were 
deiflpd over a cup of wine ? And are you and I qua- 
lified to make gods ? Is the king, our sovereign, to 
receive his divinity from you and me, who are his 
subjects ? First try ycur power, whether you can 
make a king. It is surely easier to make a king than 
a, god! to give an earthly dominion, than a throne 
in Heaven. I only wish, that the gods may have 
heard, without offence, the arrogant proposal you 
have made of adding one to their number ; and that 
they may still be so propitious to us, as to grant the 
continuance of that success to our affairs, with which 
they have hitherto favoured us. For my part, I am 
not asfcamed of my country; nor do I approve of our 
adopting the rites of foreign nations, or learning 
from them how we ought to reverence our kings. — 



83 

To receive laws, or rules of conduct, from 

them, what is it, but to confess ourselres inferior to 

them ? 

Quintus Curti^s. 

the importance of a good education. 

I consider a human soul, without education, like 
marble in the quarry; which shews none of its in he* 
rent beauties until the skill of the polisher fetches out 
the colours, makes the surface shine, and discovers 
every ornamental cloud, spot, and vein, that runs 
through the body of it. Education, after the same 
manner, when it works upon a noble mind, draws 
out to view every latent virtue and perfection, which, 
without such helps, are never able to make their ap- 
pearance. 

Aristotle tells us, that a statue lies hid in a block 
of marble ; and that the art of the statuaiy only clears 
away the superfluous matter, and removes the rub- 
bish. The figure is in the stone, and the sculptor 
only finds it. What sculpture is to a block of marble, 
education is to a human soul. The philosopher, the 
saint, or the hero, the wise, the good, or the great 
man, very often lies hid and concealed in a plebeian, 
which a proper education might have disinterred, and 
have brought to light. I am, therefore, much de- 
lighted with reading the accounts of savage nations, 
and with contemplating those virtues which are wild 

3 



84 

and uncultivated : to see courage exerting itself in 
fierceness, resolution in obstinacy, wisdom in cun- 
ning, patience in sullenness and despair. 

Men's passions operate variously, and appear in 
different kinds of actions, according as they are more 
or less rectified and swayed by reason. When one 
hears of negroes, who, upon the death of their mas- 
ters, or upon changing their service, hang themselves 
upon the next tree, as it sometimes happens in our 
American plantations, who can forbear admiring 
their fidelity, though it expresses itself in so dreadful 
a manner ? What might not that savage greatness of 
soul, which appears in these poor wretches on many 
occasions, be raised to, were it rightly cultivated ? 

It is therefore an unspeakable blessing, to be born 
in those parts of the world, where wisdom and know- 
ledge flourish. 

CICERO AGAINST VERRES. 

The time is come. Fathers, when that which has 
long been wished for, towards allaying the envy your 
order has been subject to, and removing the imputa- 
tions against trials, is effectually put into your power. 
An opinion has long prevailed, not only here at home, 
but likewise in foreign countries, both dangerous to 
you, and pernicious to the state, — that, in prosecu- 
tions, men of wealth are always safe, however clearly 
convicted. There is now to be brought upon his 



85 

trial before you, to the confusion, I hope, of the pro* 
pagators of this slanderous imputation, one whose 
life and actions condemn him in the opinion of all 
impartial persons : but who, according to his own 
reckoning and declared dependence upon his riches, 
is already acquitted ; I mean Caius Verres. I de- 
mand justice of you, Fathers, upon the robber of the 
public treasury, the oppressor of Asia Minor and 
Pamphylia, the invader of the rights and privileges 
pf Romans, the scourge and curse of Sicily. If that 
sentence is passed upon him which his crimes deserve, 
your authority, Fathers, will be venerable and sa- 
cred in th? eyes of the public : but if his great riches 
should b'as you in his fevour, I shall still gain one 
point, — to make it apparent to all the world, that 
what was wanting in this case, was not a criminal 
nor a prosecutor, but justice and adequate pu- 
nishment. 

To pass over the shameful irregularities of his youth, 
what does his quaestorship, the first public employ- 
ment he held, what does it exhibit, but one continued 
scene ofviilanies? Cneius Carbo^ plundered of the 
public money by his own treasurer, a consul stripped 
and betrayed, an army deserted and reduced to want, 
a province robbed, the civil and religious rights of a 
people violated. The employment he held in Asia 
Minor and Pamphylia, what did it produce but the 
ruin of those countries? in which houses, cities 2 and 



86 

temples, were robbed by him. What was his conduct 
in his praetorship here at home ? Let the plundered 
temples, and public works neglected, that he might 
embezzle the money intended for carrying them on, 
bear witness. How did he discharge the office of a 
judge ? Let those who suffered by his injustice answer. 
But his praetorship in Sicily crowns all his works of 
wickedness, and finishes a lasting monument to his 
infamy. The mischiefs done by him in that unhappy 
country, during the three years of his iniquitous ad- 
ministration, are such, that many years, under the 
wisest and best of praetors, will not be sufficient to 
restore things to the condition in which he found 
them; for it is notorious, that, during the time of 
his tyranny, the Sicilians neither enjoyed the protec- 
tion of their own original laws ; of the regulations 
made for their benefit by the Roman senate, upon 
their coming under the protection of the common- 
wealth; nor of the natural and unalienable rights of 
men. His nod has decided all causes in Sicily for 
these three years. And his decisions have broken all 
law, all precedent, all right. The sums he has, by 
arbitrary taxes and unheard-of impositions, extorted 
from the industrious poor, are not to be computed. 
The most faithful allies of the commonwealth have 
been treated as enemies. Roman citizens have, like 
slaves, been put to death with tortures. The most 
atrocious criminals, for money, have been exempted 



87 

from the deserved punishments ; and men of the most 
unexceptionable characters, condemned and banished 
unheard. The harbours, though sufficiently fortified, 
and the gates of strong towns, have been opened to 
pirates and ravagers. The soldiery and sailors, be- 
longing to a province under the protection of the 
commonwealth, have been starved to death • whole 
fleets, to the great detriment of the province, suffered 
to perish. The ancient monuments of either Sicilian 
or Roman greatness, the statues of heroes and princes, 
have been carried off; and the temples stripped of 
the images. — Having, by his iniquitous sentences, 
filled the prisons with the most industrious and de- 
serving of the people, he then proceeded to order 
numbers of Roman citizens to be strangled in the 
gaols ; so that the exclamation, " I am a citizen of 
Rome !" which has often, in the most distant regions, 
and among the most barbarous people, been a pro- 
tection, was of no service to them; but, on the con- 
trary, brought a speedier and a more severe punish- 
ment upon them. 

I ask now, Verres, what thou hast to advance 
against this charge ? Wilt thou pretend to deny it ? 
Wilt thou pretend, that any thing false, that even 
any thing aggravated, is alleged against thee ? Had 
any prince, or any state, committed the same outrage 
against the privilege of Roman citizens, should we 
not think we had sufficient ground for demanding sa- 



88 

tistaction? What punishment ought, then, to be 
inflicted upon a tyrannical and wicked prsetor, who 
dared, at no greater distance than Sicily, within 
sight of the Italian coast, to put to the infamous 
death of crucifixion, that unfortunate and innocent 
citizen, Pub&is Gavius Cosanus, only for his having 
asserted bis privilege of citizenship, and declared his 
intention of appealing to the justice of his country, 
against the cruel oppressor, who had unjustly con- 
fined hiin in prison at Syracuse, whence he had just 
made his escape ? The unhappy man, arrested as he 
was going to emt 3 j k for his native country, is brought 
before the wicked praetor- With eyes darting fury, 
and a countenance disto: ed with cruelty, he orders 
the helpless victim of his rage to be stripped, and 
rods to be brought; accusing him + without the 
least shadow of evidence, or even of suspicion, of 
having come to Sicily as a spy. It was in vain that 
the unhappy man cried out, u I am a Roman citizen : 
I have served under Lucius Pretius, who is now at 
Panormus, and will attest my innocence." The 
blood-thirsty praetor, deaf to all he could urge in his 
own defence, ordered the infamous punishment to be 
inflicted. Thus, Fathers, was an innocent Roman 
citizen publicly mangled with scourging; whilst the 
only words he uttered, amidst his cruel sufferings, 
were, " I am a Roman citizen !" With these he 
hoped to defend himself from violence and infamy. — 



89 

But of so little service was this privilege to him, that, 
while he was thus asserting his citizenship, the order 
was given for his execution, — for his execution upon 
the cross ! 

liberty ! — O sound once delightful to every 
Roman ear! — O sacred privilege of Roman citizen- 
ship ! — once sacred ! — now trampled upon ! — But 
what then ! — Is it come to this ? Shall an inferior 
magistrate, a governor, who holds his whole power 
of the Roman people, in a Roman province, within 
sight of Italy, bind, scourge, torture with fire and red- 
hot plates of iron, and at last put to the infamous 
death of the cross, a Roman citizen ? Shall neither 
the cries of innocence expiring in agony, nor the tears 
of pitying spectators, nor the majesty of the Roman 
commonwealth, nor the fear of the justice of his 
country, restrain the licentious and wanton cruelty 
of a monster, who, in confidence of bis riches, 
strikes at the root of liberty, and sets mankind at 
defiance ? 

1 conclude with expressing my hopes, that your 
wisdom and justice, Fathers, will not, by suffering 
the atrocities and unexampled insolence of Caius 
Verres to escape due punishment, leave room to ap- 
prehend the danger of a total subversion of authority, 
and the introduction of general anarchy and con- 
fusion 



90 



THE APOSTLE PAULS NOBLE DEFENCE BEFORE 
FESTUS AND AGRIPPA. 

I think myself happy, king Agrippa, because I 
shall answer for myself this day before thee, concern- 
ing all the things whereof I am accused by the Jews : 
especially, as I know thee to be expert in all customs 
and questions which are among the Jews. Wherefore 
I beseech thee to hear me patiently. 

My manner of life from my youth, which was at 
the first among my own nation at Jerusalem, know 
all the Jews; who knew me from the beginning, (if 
they would testify) that after the straitest sect of our 
religion I lived a Pharisee. And now I stand and 
^m judged for the hope of the promise made by God 
to our fathers ; to which promise, our twelve tribes, 
continually serving God day and night, hope to come : 
and, for this hope's sake, king Agrippa, I am accused 
by the Jews. 

Why should it be thought a thing incredible with 
you, that God should ra : se the d?ad ? 1 verily thought 
with myself, that I ought to do many things contrary 
to the name of Jesus of Nazareth : and this I did in 
Jerusalem. Many of the ; mts I shut up in prison, 
having received authority from the chief priests : and 



01 

when they were put to death, I gave my voice against 
them. And I often punished them in every synagogue, 
and compelled them to blaspheme ; and being ex- 
ceedingly mad against them, I persecuted them even 
unto strange cities. But as I went to Damascus, with 
authority and commission from the chief priests, at 
mid-day, O king ! I saw in the way a light from hea- 
ven, above the brightness of the sun. shining round 
about me, and them who journeyed with me. And 
when we were all fallen to the earth, I heard a voice 
speaking to me, and saying, in the Hebrew tongue, 
u Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou me ? It is hard 
for thee to kick against the pricks." And I said, 
" who art thou, Lord ? And he replied, I am Jesus 
whom thou persecutest. But rise, and stand upon thy 
feet : for I have appeared to thee for this purpose, to 
make thee a minister, and a witness both of these 
things, which thou hast seen, and of those things 
in which I will appear to thee : delivering thee from 
the people, and from the Gentile*, to whom I now 
send thee, to open their eyes/ and to turn them from 
darkness to light, and from the power of Satan to 
God: that they niay receive forgiveness of sins, and 
inheritance amongst them who are sanctified by faith 
that is in me." 

Whereupon, O king Agrippa! I was not disobe- 
dient to the heavenly vision : but showed first to them 
of Damascus, and at Jerusalem, and through all the 



92 

coasts of Judea, and then to the Gentiles, that they 
should repent, and turn to God, and do works meet 
for repentance. For these causes, the Jews caught 
me in the temple ; and went about to kill me, Hav- 
ing, however, obtained help from God, I continue, 
to this day, witnessing both to small and great, saying 
no other things than those which the prophets and 
Moses declared should come : that Christ should 
suffer: that he would be the first who should rise 
from the dead; and that he would show light to the 
people, and to the Gentiles. 

hamlet's instructions to the players. 

Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it 
to you, trippingly on the tongue. But if you mouth 
it, as many of our players do, I had as lieve the 
town crier had spoke my lines. And do not saw the 
air too much with your hand, thus : but use all 
gently; for in the very torrent, tempest, and, as I 
may say, whirlwind of your passion, you must ac- 
quire and beget a temperance, that may give it 
smoothness. O ! it offends me to the soul, to hear a 
robustious periwig-pated fellow tear a passion to 
tatters, to very rags, to split the ears of the ground- 
lings; who, for the most part, are capable of nothing 
but inexplicable dumb shows and noise : I would have 
such a fellow whipped for o'erdoing termagant; it 
outherods Herod. — Pray you, avoid it. 



93 

Be not too tame neither; but let your own discre- 
tion be your tutor. Suit the action to the word, the 
word to the action, with this special observance, that 
you o'erstep not the modesty of nature; for any thing 
so overdone is from the purpose of playing ; whose 
end, both at the first and now, was and is, to hold, 
as 'twere, the mirror up to nature ; to show Virtue 
her own feature, Scorn her own image, and the very 
age and body of the time his form and pressure. Now 
this overdone or come tardy of, though it make the 
unskilful laugh, cannot but make the judicious grieve : 
the censure of one of which must in your allowance 
o'erweigh a whole theatre of others. O ! there be 
players that I have seen play, and heard others praise, 
and that highly, (not to speak it profanely,) that, 
neither having the accent of Christian, nor the gait 
of Christian, pagan, nor man, have so strutted and 
bellowed, that I have thought some of Nature's jour- 
neymen had made them, and not made them well, 
they imitated humanity so abominably. 

And let those that play your clowns speak no more 
than is set down for them : for there be of them that 
will themselves laugh, to set on some quantity of 
barren spectators to laugh too ; though, in the mean 
time, some necessary question of the play be then to be 
considered : — that's villainous : and shows a most pi- 
tiful ambition in the fool that uses it. 

Shakspeare, 



94 



L ALLEGRO. 

Come, thou Goddess, fair and free. 
In Heav'n yclep'd Euphrosyne, 
And by men, heart- easing Mirth, 
Whom lovely Venus at a birth 
With two sister Graces more 
To ivy-crowned Bacchus bore : 
Or whether (as some sages sing) 
The frolic wind that breathes the spring, 
Zephyr, with Aurora playing, 
As he met her once a may in g, 
There on beds of vi'lets blue, 
And fresh blown roses wash'd in dew, 
FilPd her with thee a daughter fair, 
So buxom, blithe, and debonair. 

Haste thee Nymph, and bring with thee 
Jest and youthful jollity, 
Quips, and Cranks, and wanton Wiles 
Nods, and Becks, and wreathed Smiles, 
Such as hang on Hebe's cheek, 
And love to live in dimple sleek ; 
Sport that wrinkled Care derides 
And Laughter holding both his sides; 
Come, and trip it as you go 
On the light fantastic toe, 
And in thy right hand lead with thee, 
The mountain-nymph, sweet Liberty : 



95 

And, if I give thee honour due, 
Mirth, admit me of thy crew, 
To live with her, and live with thee. 
In unreproved pleasures free : 
To hear the lark begin his flight, 
And singing startle the dull night. 
From his watch -tow'r in the skies, 
Till the dappled dawn doth rise ; 
Then to come, in spite of sorrow, 
And at my window bid good morrow, 
Through the sweetbryer, or the vine. 
Or the twisted eglantine : 
While the cock with lively din 
Scatters the rear of darkness thin, 
And to the stack, or the barn door, 
Stoutly struts his dames before : 
Oft list'ning how the hounds and horn 
Cheerly rouse the slumb'ring morn, 
From the side of some hoar hill, 
Through the high wood echoing shrill : 
Some time walking not unseen 
By hedge-row elms, on hillocks green. 
Right against the eastern gate, 
Where the great Sun begins his state, 
Rob'd in flames, and amber light. 
The clouds in thousand liv'ries d'ght; 
While the ploughman, near at hand, 
Whistles o'er the furrow'd land, 



96 

And the milk- maid singeth blithe, 
And the mower whets his scythe, 
And ev'ry shepherd tells his tale 
Under the hawthorn in the dale. 

Straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures, 
While the landscape round it measures, 
Russet lawns, and fallows gray, 
Where the nibbling flocks do stray; 
Mountains on whose barren breast 
The lab'ring clouds do often rest ; 
Meadows trim with daisies pied ; 
Shallow brooks, and rivers wide : 
TcwVs and battlements it sees 
Bosom'd high in tufted trees, 
Where perhaps some beauty lies, 
The Cynosure of neighboring eyes. 
Hard by, a coitage-chimney smokes, 
From betwixt two aged oaks, 
Where Corydon and Thyrsis met, 
Are at their sav'ry dinner set 
Of herbs, and other country messes, 
Which the neat-handed Phyllis dresses : 
And then hi haste her bow'r she leaves, 
With Thestylis to bind the sheaves ; 
Or, if the earlier season lead, 
To the tann'd haycock in the mead. 

Sometimes, with secure delight, 
The upland hamlets will invite, 



9T 

When the merry bells ring round, 

And the jocund rebecks sound 

To many a youth, and many a maid. 

Dancing in the chequer'd shade ; 

And young and old come forth to play 

On a sunshine holiday, 

Till the livelong daylight fail ; 

Then to the spicy nutbrown ale, 

With stories told of many a feat, 

How fairy Mab the junkets ate ; 

She was pinch'd, and pull'd, she said, 

And he by friar's lantern led ; 

Tells how the drudging goblin sweat 

To earn his cream-bowl duly set, 

When in one night, ere glimpse of morn, 

His shad'wy flail had thresh'd the corn, 

That ten day-labourers could not end; 

Then lies him down the lubber fiend, 

And, stretch'd out all the chimney's length, 

Basks at the fire his hairy strength, 

And, cropful, out of doors he flings, 

Ere the first cock his matin rings. 

Thus done the tales, to bed they creep, 

By whisp'ring winds soon lulFd asleep, 

Tow'red cities please us then, 
And the busy hum of men, 
Where throngs of knights and barons bold 
In weeds of peace high triumphs hold, 



98 

With store of ladies, whose bright eyes 
Rain influence, and judge the prize 
Of wit, or arms, while both contend 
To win her grace, whom all commend. 
There let Hymen oft appear 
In saffron robe, with taper clear, 
And pomp, and feast, and revelry, 
With masque and antique pageantry, 
Such sights as youthful poets dream, 
On summer eves, by haunted stream. 
Then to the well-trod stage anon, 
If Jonson's learned sock be on, 
Or sweetest Shakspeare, Fancy's child, 
Warble his native woodnotes wild. 

And ever against eating cares 
Lap me in soft Lydian airs, 
Married to immortal verse, 
Such as the melting soul may pierce. 
In notes with many a winding bout 
Of linked sweetness long drawn out, 
With wanton heed, and giddy cunning, 
The melting voice through mazes running, 
Untwisting all the chains that tie 
The hidden soul of Harmony ; 
That Orpheus' self may heave his head 
From golden slumber on a bed 
Of heap'd Elysian flowers, and hear 
Such strains as would have won the ear 



99 

Of Pluto, to have quite set free 

His half regain' d Eurydice. 

These delights if thou canst give, 

Mirth, with thee I mean to live. miLton. 

THE CAMELEON. 

Oft it has been my lot to mark 
A proud, conceited, talking spark, 
With eyes, that hardly serv'd at most 
To guard their master 'gainst a post : 
Yet round the world the blade has been, 
To see whatever could be seen. 
Returning from his finish'd tour. 
Grown ten times perter than before ; 
Whatever word you chance to drop, 
The travell'd fool your mouth will stop ; 
M Sir, if my judgment you'll allow — 
€C I've seen — and sure I ought to know"— 
So begs you'd pay a due submission. 
And acquiesce in his decision. 

Two travellers of such a cast, 
As o'er Arabia's wilds they past, 
And on their way in friendly chat 
Now talk'd of this, and then of that, 
Discours'd a while, 'mongst other matter, 
Of the Cameleon'g form and nature. 
" A stranger animal," cries one, 
u Sure never liv'd beneath the sun s 

fS 



Hiilf 



100 

« A lizard's body lean and long, 
€C A fish's head, a serpent's tongue, 
" Its tooth with triple claw disjoin'd ; 
<c And what a length of tail behind ! 
c< How slow its pace ! and then its hue — 
€C Who ever saw so fine a blue ?" 

" Hold there," the other quick replies, 
u 'Tis green — I saw it with these eyes, 
€C As late with open mouth it lay, 
ie And warm'd it in the sunny ray ; 
** Stretch'd at its ease the beast I view'd, 
u And saw it eat the air for food." 

6C I've seen it, Sir, as well as you, 
" And must again affirm it blue ; 
a At leisure I the beast survey'd, 
u Extended in the cooling shade." 

u 'Tis green, 'tis green, Sir, I assure ye." — 
a Green !" cries the other in a fury — 
« Why, Sir— d'ye think I've lost my eyes?" 

" 'Twere no great loss," the friend replies ; 
iC For if they always serve you thus^ 
« You'll find 'em but of little use." 

So high at last the contest rose, 
From words they almost came to blows : 
When luckily came by a third ; 
To him the question they referr'd, 
And begg'd he'd tell 'em, if he knew, 
Whether the thing was green or blue. 



101 

M Sirs/' cries the umpire, " cease your pother- 
<c The creature's neither one nor t'other. 
u I caught the animal last night, 
" And view'd it o'er by candle-light s 
" I mark'd it well— 'twas black as jeto 
" You stare — but, Sirs, I've got it yet, 
u And can produce it." — " Pray, Sir, do : 
" I'll lay my life the thing is blue."— 
" And I'll be sworn, that when you've seen 
" The reptile, you'll pronounce him green." 

u Well then, at once to ease the doubt," 
Replies the man, " I'll turn him out : 
" And when before your eyes I've set him, 
« If you don't find him black I'll eat him." 

He said; then full before their sight 
Produc'd the beast, and lo ! — 'twas white. 
Both star'd, the man look'd wondrous wise— 
66 My children," the Cameleon cries, 
(Then first the creature found a tongue,) 
" You all are right, and all are wrong : 
" When next you talk of what you view, 
" Think others see, as well as you : 
a Nor wonder, if you find that none 
u Prefers your eye -sight to his own." 



93 



102 



THE MONKEY WHO HAD SEEN THE WORL», 

A Monkey, to reform the times, 
Resolv'd to visit foreign climes: 

For men in distant ages roam 
To bring politer manners home. 
So forth he fares, all toil defies : 
Misfortunes serve to make us wise. 

At length the treach'rous snare was laid \ 
Poor Pug was caught, to town convey'd, 
There sold. How envy'd was his doom. 
Made captive in a lady's room ! 
Proud as a lover of his chains, 
He day by day her favour gains. 
Whene'er the duty of the day 
The toilet calls, with mimic play 
He twirls her knots, he cracks her fan, 
Like any other gentleman. 
In visits too his parts and wit, 
When jests grew dull, were sure to hit. 
Proud with applause, he thought his mind 
In ev'ry courtly art refin'd ; 
Like Orpheus, burnt with public zeal, 
To civilise the monkey weal : 
So watch' d occasion, broke his chain, 
And sought his native woods again. 

The hairy sylvans round him press, 
Astonish'd at his strut and dress, 



103 

Some praise his sleeve; and others glote 
Upon his rich embroidered coat ; 
His dapper periwig commending, 
With the black tail behind depending; 
His powder'd back, above, below, 
Like hoary frost, or fleecy snow ; 
But all, with envy and desire, 
His flutt'ring shoulder-knot admire. 

" Hear and improve," he pertly cries; 
" I come to make a nation wise. 
" Weigh your own worth ; support your place, 
" The next in rank to human race. 
" In cities long I pass'd my days, 
u Convers'd with men, and learnt their ways* 
u Their dress, their courtly manners, see ; 
M Reform your state, and copy me. 
" Seek ye to thrive, in flatt'ry deal ; 
u Your scorn, your hate, with that conceal : 
" Seem only to regard your friends, 
" But use them for your private ends. 
" Stint not to truth the flow of wit ; 
" Be prompt to lie whene'er 'tis fit. 
" Bend all your force to spatter merit; 
tt Scandal is conversation's spirit. 
" Boldly to ev'ry thing pretend, 
" And men your talents shall commend. 
" I knew the great. Observe me right ; 
6C So shall you grow like man, polite." 



204 

He spoke and bow'd. With nurturing jaws 
The wond'ring circle grinn'd applause. 
Now, warm with malice, envy, spite. 
Their most obliging friends they bite ; 
And, fond to copy human ways, 
Practice new mischiefs all their days. 

Thus the dull lad, too tall for school, 
With travel finishes the fool ; 
Studious of ev'ry coxcomb's airs, 
He drinks, games, dresses, rakes, and swears f 
O'erlooks with scorn all virtuous art% 
For vice is fitted to his parts* 



PART THE SECOND. 



JL HE student having acquired habits of correct 
enunciation and graceful deportment, it is unneces- 
sary to urge that they are to be preserved, dur- 
ing the exercises which are yet to be prescribed. 

Hitherto there has been no exertion of the intel- 
lect. The practices of reading and recitation, re- 
quire very little more of mental effort than patience 
and attention. 

To relate accurately any circumstance or reason* 
ing with which we are acquainted, needs all the 
requisites enumerated for good reading and recita- 
tion ; but to understand a subject clearly, and recol- 
lect it faithfully, there are also necessary, the addi- 
tional powers of discrimination and retention. 

The discrimination here required is the faculty 
of distinguishing the principal features of a narra* 
tive, description or argument; so as to collect them 
in the mind independently -of its subordinate parts. 

Retention is the power of holding them in the 
mind after they have been thus discriminated. 

We have no ideas but of persons, objects, and 
jp 5 



106 

actions ; and all we can do is to relate, describe, and 
reason upon them. The faculties therefore of dis- 
crimination and retention, can be employed only on 
narratives, descriptions, and arguments. 

*** Each of the examples is to be read to the 
pupils ; who, according to the rules which are given, 
will repeat its substance. 

OF NAKRATITE. 

Rule 1. — Narrative is an account of events 
and of the persons or objects concerned in 
them. 

Rule 2. — The principal features of a narra- 
tive- are expressed by nouns and verbs. 

Rule 3, — Narrative includes detached events^ 
biography, and history. 

Rule 4. — Dfetached events are single circum-. 
stances, generally preserved on account of 
some particular instruction or amusement 
which they convey. Such are fables, anec- 
dotes, &c, 

Jt&le 5'.— When the principal nouns and verbs 



107 

of a fable, &c. are collected together, they con- 
tain its real substance. The following: are 
examples : 

THE FABLE OF THE DOG AND THE SHADOW. 

cc A dog crossing a little rivulet with a piece of 
flesh, in his mouth, saw his own shadow represented 
in the water, and believing it to be another dog, 
who was carrying another piece of flesh, he could 
not forbear catching at it; but was so far from 
getting any thing by his greedy design, that he dropt 
the piece he had in his mouth, which immediately 
sunk to the bottom, and was irrecoverably lost." 

In this fable the principal nouns are —dog, flesh, 
shadow, water. The principal verbs are— saw, 
believing, catching, dropt, lost. 

These nouns and verbs collected together, repre- 
sent, with very little assistance, the substance of the 
fable: thus — A dog with flesh saw his shadow in the 
water; (believing it to be another dog, with another 
piece of flesh) catching at it, dropt the flesh, and lost 
it. 

%* In the following examples, the principal nouns 
and verbs are distinguished by italics. 



108 



THE CREAKING WHEEL. 

The coachman hearing one of the wheels of his 
coach creak, was surprised; but more especially 
when he perceived that it was the worst wheel of the 
whole set, and which he thought had but little pre- 
tence to take such a liberty. But upon his demand- 
ing the reason why it did so, the wheel replied, that 
it was natural for people who laboured under any af- 
fliction or infirmity to complain. 

THE NORTH WIND AND THE SUN. 

A dispute once arose betwixt the north wind and 
the sun, about the superiority of their power ; and 
they agreed to try their strength upon a traveller, 
which should be able to get his cloak off first. The 
north wind began, and blew a very cold blast, ac- 
companied with a sharp driving shower : but this, 
and whatever else he could do, instead of making the 
man quit his cloak, obliged him to gird it about 
his body as close as possible. Next came the sun, 
who, breaking out from a thick watery cloud, drove 
away the cold vapours from the sky, and darted his 
warm, sultry. beams upon the head of the poor wea- 
ther-beaten traveller. The man growing faint with 
the heat, and unable to endure it any longer, first 
throzvs off his heavy cloak, and then flies for protec- 
tion to the shade of a neighbouring grove* 



109 



THE TORTOISE AND THE EAGLE. 

The tortoise, weary of his condition, by which he 
was confined upon the ground, and being ambitious 
to have a prospect and look about him, gave out, 
that if any bird would take him up into the air, and 
show him the world, he would reward him with a 
discovery of many precious stones, which he knew 
were hidden in a certain place of the earth : the 
eagle undertook to do as he desired; and when h© 
had performed his commission, demanded the re- 
ward : but finding the tortoise could not make good 
his words, he struck his talons into the softer parts of 
his body, and made him a sacrifice to his revenge. 

THE ASS IN THE LIONVsKIN. 

An ass, finding the skin of a lion, put it on; and 
going into the woods and pastures, threw all the 
flocks and herds into a terrible consternation. At 
last, meeting his owner, he would have frightened 
him also ; but the good man seeing his long ears 
stick out, presently knew him, and with a good 
cudgel made him sensible, that notwithstanding his 
being dressed in a lion's skin, he was really no more 
than an ass. 

THE CROW AND THE PITCHER. 

A croWy ready to die with thirst, flew with joy to a 



no 

pitcher, which he beheld at some distance. When 
he came, he found water in it iildeed, but so near the 
bottom, that, with all his stooping and straining, he 
was not able to reach it : then he endeavoured to 
overturn the pitcher, that so at least he might be 
able to get a little of it ; but his strength was not 
sufficient for this : at last, seeing some pebbles lie 
near the place, he cast them one by one into the 
pitcher; and thus, by degrees, raised the water up to 
the very brim, and satisfied his thirst. 

THE LION AND THE FOUR BULLS. 

Four bulls, which had entered into a very strict 
friendship, kept always near one another, and fed to*- 
gether. The lion often saw them, and as often had a 
mind to make one of them his prey ; but, though he 
could easily have subdued any of them singly, yet he 
was afraid to attack the zohole alliance, as knowing 
they would have been too hard for him, and there- 
fore contented himself for the present with keeping 
at a distance. At last, perceiving no attempt was 
to be made upon them, as long as this combination 
held, he took occasion, by whispers and hints,, to 
foment jealousies, and raise divisions among them. 
This stratagem succeeded so well, that the bulls 
grew cold and reserved towards one another, which 
soon after ripened into a downright hatred and 
aversion, and at last ended in a total separation* 



Ill 

The Hon had now obtained his ends ; and, as impos- 
sible as it was for him to hurt them while they were 
united, he found no difficulty, now they were parted, 
to seize and devour every bull of them, one after ano- 
ther. 

THE HARPER. 

A fellow that used to play upon his harp, and sing 
to it in little alehouses, made a shift, by the help of 
those narrow confined walls, to please the dull sots 
who heard him ; hence he entertained an ambition 
of showing his parts upon the public theatre, where 
he fancied he could not fail of raising a great reputa- 
tion and fortune in a very short time. He wa9 ac- 
cordingly admitted upon trial ; but the spaciousness 
of the place, and the throng of the people, so dead- 
ened and weakened both his voice and instrument, 
that scarce either of them could be heard ; and where 
they could, it sounded so poor, so low, and so 
wretched, in the ears of his refined audience, that 
he was universally exploded and hissed off the stage, 

THE DOVE AND THE ANT. 

u The ant, compelled by thirst, went to drink in a 
clear, purling rivulet ; but the current, with its cir- 
cling eddy, snatched her away, and carried her down 
the stream. A dove, pitying her distressed condi- 
tion^ cropt a branch from a neighbouring tree, and 



112 

let it fall into the water, by means of vrhich the ant 
saved herself, and got ashore. Not long after, a 
fowler having a design upon the dove, planted his 
nets in due order, without the bird's observing what 
he was about; which the ant perceiving, just as he 
was going to put his design in execution, she bit him 
by the heel, and made him give so sudden a start, 
that the dove took the alarm, and Jlew away. 

RESPECT r>UE TO OLD AGE. 

It happened at Athens, during a public representa- 
tion of some flay exhibited in honour of the com- 
monwealth, that an old gentleman came too late for a 
place suitable to his age and quality. Many of the 
young gentlemen, who observed the difficulty and 
confusion he was in, made signs to him that they 
would accommodate him if he came where they sat : 
the good man bustled through the crowd accordingly; 
but when he came to the seat to which he was in- 
vited, the jest was, to sit close and expose him, as he 
stood out of countenance, to the whole audience. 
The frolic went round all the Athenian benches. 
But on those occasions there were also particular 
places assigned for foreigners : when the good man 
skulked towards the boxes appointed for the Lacede- 
monians, that honest people, more virtuous than po- 
lite, rose up all to a man, and with the greatest re- 
spect received him among them. The Athenians 



113 

being suddenly touched with a sense of the Spartan 
virtue and their own degeneracy, gave a thunder of 
applause, and the old man cried out, " The Atheni- 
ans understand what is good, but the Lacedemoni- 
ans practise it." Spectator. 

Jlgesilaus, king of Sparta, being asked, what things 
he thought most proper for boys to learn, answered, 
" Those which they ought to practise when they 
come to be men" A wiser than Agesilaus has in- 
culcated the same sentiment : " Train up a child in 
the way he should go, and when he is old he will not 
depart from it." 

U Estrange, in his Fables, tells us, that a number 
of frolicksome boys were one day watching frogs at 
the side of a pond ; and that, as any of them put 
their heads above the water, they pelted them down 
again with stones. One of the frogs, appealing to 
the humanity of the boys, made this striking obser- 
vation: u Children, you do not consider, that 
though this may be sport to you, it is death to us." 

Sir Philip Sidney, at the battle near Zutphen, 
was wounded by a musket-ball, which broke the bone 
of his thigh. He w r as carried about a mile and a 
half, to the camp; and being faint with the loss of 
blood, and probably parched with thirst, through the 
heat of the weather, he called for drink. It was im- 
mediately brought to him : but as he was putting the 



J 14 

vessel to his mouth, a poor wounded soldier, who hap* 
pened at that instant to be carried by him, looked up 
to it with wishful eyes. The gallant and generous 
Sidney took the bottle from his mouth, and delivered 
it to the soldier, saying, " Thy necessity is yet 
greater than mine." 

Rule 6. — Detached events are sometimes 
used to inculcate a moral principle or opinion 
to which the fable or anecdote evidently 
leads. 

In the following examples, the moral of each fable 
or anecdote is added separately. The pupil will 
take care to distinguish the principal nouns and 
verbs, according to Rule 5, so that he may be ena- 
bled to repeat the substance of each example, as well 
as the instruction which it is designed to convey. 

THE GOOD SAMARITAN. 

A certain man went down from Jerusalem to Jeri- 
cho, and fell among thieves, who stripped him of his 
raiment, and wounded him, and departed - T leaving 
him half dead. 

And by chance there came down a certain priest 
that way ; and when he saw him, he passed by oa 
the other side* 



115 

And likewise a Levite, when he was at the place, 
came and looked on him, and passed by on the other 
side. But a certain Samaritan, as he journeyed, 
came where he was ; and when he saw him, he had 
compassion on him, and went to him, and bound up 
his wounds, pouring in oil and wine, and brought 
him to an inn and took care of him. And on the 
morrow, when he departed, he took out two pence, 
and gave them to the host, and said to him, Take 
care of him, and whatsoever thou spendest more, 
when I come again, I will repay thee. 

Moral. 
Do thou likewise. 

THE ASS AND THE LION HUXTING. 

The lion took a fancy to hunt in company with the 
ass ; and to make him the more useful, gave him in- 
structions to hide himself in a thicket, and then to 
bray in the most frightful manner that he could 
possibly contrive. " By this means," says he, " you 
will rouse all the beasts within the hearing of you? 
while I stand at the outlets, and take them as they are 
making off." This was done; and the stratagem 
took effect accordingly. The ass brayed most hide- 
ously ; and the timorous beasts, not knowing what 
to make of it, began to scour off as fast as they could ; 
when the lion, who was posted at a proper avenue, 



116 

seized and devoured them, as he pleased. Having 
got his belly full, he called out to the ass, and bid 
him leave off, telling him, he had done enough. Up- 
on this, the lop-eared brute came out of his ambush, 
and approaching the lion, asked him, >vith an air of 
conceit, how he liked his performance, " Prodigi- 
ously !" says he; " you did it so well, that I protest, 
had I not known your nature and temper, I might 
have been frightened myself." 

The Application. 

A bragging, cowardly fellow may impose upon 
people that do not know him ; but is the greatest 
jest imaginable to those who do. 

THE CAT AND THE FOX. 

As the cat and the fox were talking politics toge- 
ther, on a time, in the middle of a forest, Reynard 
said, let things turn out ever so bad, he did not care, 
for he had a thousand tricks for them yet, before 
they should hurt him : " But pray/' says he, u Mrs. 
Puss, suppose there should be an invasion, what 
course do you design to take?" — " Nay," says the 
cat, " I have but one shift for it, and if that won't 
do, I am undone." — " I am sorry for you," replies 
Reynard, " with all my heart, and would gladly fur- 
nish you with one or two of mine ; but indeed, 
neighbour, as times go, it is not good to trust; w£ 



117 

must even be ever/ one for himself, as the saying is, 
and so your humble servant." These words were 
scarcely out of his mouth, when they were alarned 
with a pack of hounds that came upon them in full 
cry. The cat, by the help of her single shift, ran up 
a tree, and sat securely among the top branches; 
from which she beheld Reynard, who had not been 
able to get out of sight, overtaken with his thousand 
tricks, and torn in as many pieces by the dogs which 
had surrounded him. 

The Moral 
A man that sets up for more cunning than the rest 
of his neighbours, is generally a silly fellow at the 
bottom. 

THE PARTRIDGE AND THE COCKS. 

A certain man having taken a partridge, plucked 
some of the feathers out of its wings, and turned it 
into a little yard, where he kept game cocks. The 
cocks for a while made the poor bird lead a sad life, 
continually pecking and driving it away from the 
meat. This treatment was taken the more un- 
kindly, because offered to a stranger; and the par- 
tridge could not but conclude them the most inhospi- 
table, uncivil people, he had ever met with. But at 
last, observing how frequently they quarrelled and 
fought with each other, he comforted himself with 



118 

this reflection : that it was no wonder they were s» 
cruel to him, since there was so much bickering and 
animosity among* themselves. 

The Moral. 

As good-humour is the fountain of politeness, so* 
a quarrelsome disposition is incapable of civility or 
hospitality. 

THE PROUD FROG. 

An ox 5 grazing in a meadow, chanced to set his 
foot among a parcel of young frogs, and trod one of 
them to death. The rest informed their mother, 
when she came home, what had happened ; telling 
her, that the beast which did it was the hugest crea- 
ture that they ever saw in their lives. " What ! was 
it so big ?" says the old frog, swelling and blowing 
up her speckled belly to a great degree. " Oh ! 
bigger by avast deal!" say they. " And so big?" 
says she, straining herself yet more. u Indeed, 
mamma," said they, " if you were to burst yourself, 
you would never be so big." She strove yet again, 
and burst herself indeed. 

The Moral. 

Whenever a man endeavours to live equal with one 
of a greater fortune than himself, he is sure to share 



119 

* like fate with the frog — burst, and come to no- 
thing. 

THE FOX AND THE CROW. 

A crow having taken a piece of cheese out of a 
cottage window, flew up into a high tree with it, in 
order to eat it. Which a fox observing, came and 
sat underneath, and began to compliment the crow 
upon the subject of her beaut} 7 . " I protest," says 
he, u I never observed it before, but your feathers 
are of a more delicate white than any that ever I 
saw in my life! Ah ! what a fine shape and grace- 
ful turn of body is there ! And I make no question 
but you have a tolerable voice ! If it is but as fine 
as your complexion, I do not know a bird that can 
pretend to stand in competition with you." The 
crow, tickled with this very civil language, nestled 
and riggled about, and hardly knew where she 
was ; but thinking the fox a little dubious as to the 
particular of her voice, and having a mind to set 
bim right in that matter, began to sing, and in the 
same instant, let the cheese drop out of her mouth. 
This being what the fox wanted, he chopped it up in 
a moment, and trotted away, laughing to himself at 
the easy credulity of the crow. 

The Moral. 
Those who love flattery (as it is to be feared too 



120 

many do) are in a fair way to repent of their foible 
at some time or other. 

A CHINESE ANECDOTE. 

A mandarin, who took much pride in appearing 
with a number of jewels on every part of his robe, 
was once accosted by an old sly Bonze, who, follow- 
ing him through several streets, and bowing often 
to the ground, thanked him for his jewels. " What 
does the man mean?" cried the Mandarin; "friend, 
I never gave thee any of my jewels." — " No," re- 
plied the other, u but you have let me look at them, 
and that is all the use you can make of them your- 
self; so there is no difference between us, except 
that you have the trouble of watching them, and 
that is an employment I don't like." 

The Moral 
Mere finery is of no use but to be gazed at. 

ANECDOTE OF CARLINA, A DROLL BUFFOON OF 
THE ITALIAN STAGE AT PARIS. 

A French physician having been consulted by a 
person subject to the most gloomy fits of melan- 
choly, advised his patient to mix in scenes of gaiety 
and dissipation; and particularly to frequent the 
Italian theatre : " And if Carlina does not dispel 
your gloomy complaint," says he, " your case must 



121 

be desperate indeed. 11 — " Alas! Sir," said the pa- 
tient, " I myself am Carlina, and while I divert all 
Paris with mirth, and make them almost die with 
laughter, I myself am dying with melancholy and 
chagrin. " 

Moral 
Laughter is not always the proof of a merry 
heart. 

ANECDOTE OP KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. 

As he was hunting in Windsor Forest one day, he 
lost himself, probably on purpose; upon which he 
struck down, about dinner-time, to Reading, where 
he disguised himself in the habit of a yeoman of the 
king's guards; for one of which, by his stature and 
figure, he might well pass, He went to the abbey, 
and was invited to dine at the abbot's table. — A sir- 
loin of beef was set before him, on which his majesty 
laid on lustily, not disgracing the coat of a king's 
beef-eater, for whom he was taken. " Well fare thy 
heart," quoth the abbot, u and here in a cup of sack, 
I remember the health of his grace your master. I 
would give an hundred pounds upon condition that 
I could feed so heartily on beef as you do. Alas! 
my weak and squeamish stomach will only digest the 
leg of a small rabbit, or the wing of a chicken.' 9 — 
The king merrily pledged him, and heartily thanked 

G 



122 

him for his good cheer; and after dinner, departed 
undiscovered. 

Some weeks after, the abbot was sent for by a 
king's messenger, brought up to London, clapped 
into the tower, kept close prisoner, and fed for seve- 
ral days with bread and water only. 

The abbot's mind was sorely disquieted with 
thoughts and suspicions how he might have incurred 
the king's displeasure: at last the day came on which 
a sirloin of beef was set before him, on which the 
abbot fed like a farmer. In came King Henry out 
of a private lobby, where he had placed himself, 
the invisible spectator of the abbot's behaviour. — 
" My lord," quoth the king, " lay down immedi- 
ately your hundred guineas in gold, or else there 
shall be no going hence for you all the days of your 
life. I have been your physician ; I have cured you 
of your squeamish stomach; and here, as I deserve, 
I demand four reward." 

Moral. 

Temperance preserves health and taste : luxury 
destroys both. 

ANECDOTE OF WILLIAM RUFUS. 

Two monks applied to William Rufus, king of 
England, to purchase an abbot's place, and they 
both strove to outvie each other in the largeness of 



123 

their offers. A third monk, as it happened, was 
present, who, observing a strict silence, the king 
said to him, as if to encourage the best bidder, — 
*' And what wilt thou give for the place ?" — "Not 
" a penny !" answered he, u for it is against my 
conscience." — On which Rufus replied, u Then 
thou, of the three, best deservest the preference, 
and thou shalt have it!" This circumstance is the 
more remarkable, as this king was not over-and- 
above tender in other sacred points. 

Moral. 

Purity is generally more successful, and always 
more respectable, than bribery. 

Rule 7. — Detached events are sometimes 
employed to illustrate the truth, or as ex- 
amples of the efficacy of an opinion or prin- 
ciple previously stated. 

The following are examples. 

One idea which is familiar to the mind, connected 
with others which are new and strange, will bring 
those new ideas into easy remembrance. Maro- 
nides had the first hundred lines of Virgil's iEneid 
printed upon his memory so perfectly, that he 



124 

knew not only the order and number of every word.> 
but each verse also; and by this means he would un- 
dertake to remember two or three hundred names of 
persons or things, by some rational or fantastic con- 
nection between some word in the verse, and some 
letter, syllable, property, or accident of the name or 
thing to be remembered ; even though they had been 
repeated but once or twice in his hearing. 

NO RANK OR POSSESSIONS CAN MAKE THE GUILTT 
MIND HAPPY. 

Dionysius, the tyrant of Sicily, was far from being 
happy, though he possessed great riches, and all the 
pleasures which wealth and power could procure. 
Damocles, one of his flatterers, deceived by those 
specious appearances of happiness, took occasion to 
compliment him on the extent of his power, his trea- 
sures, aqd royal magnificence : and declared, that no 
monarch had ever been greater or happier than Dio- 
nysius. " Hast thou a mind, Damocles," says the 
king, " to taste this happiness ? and to know, by 
experience, what the enjoyments are, of which thou 
hast so high an idea ?" Damocles, with joy, accepted 
the offer. The king ordered, that a royal banquet 
should be prepared, and a gilded sofa, covered with 
rich embroidery, placed for his favourite. Side- 
boards, loaded with gold and silver plate of immense 
value, were arranged in the apartment. Pages of 



125 

extraordinary beauty were ordered to attend his ta- 
ble, and to obey his commands with the utmost readi- 
ness, and the most profound submission. Fragrant 
ointments, chaplets of flowers, and rich perfumes, 
were added to the entertainment. The table was 
loaded with the most exquisite delicacies of every 
kind. Damocles, intoxicated with pleasure, fancied 
himself amongst superior beings. But in the midst 
of all this happiness, as he lay indulging himself in 
state, he sees let down from the ceiling, exactly over 
his head, a glittering sword hung by a single hair. 
The sight of impending destruction put a speedy end 
to his joy and revelling. The pomp of his attendance, 
the glitter of the carved plate, and the delicacy of the 
viands, cease to afford him any pleasure. He dreads 
to stretch forth his hand to the table. He throws oft* 
the garland of roses. He hastens to remove from his 
dangerous situation ; and earnestly entreats the king 
to restore him to his former humble condition, having 
no desire to enjoy any longer a happiness so terrible. 
By this device, Dionysius intimated to Damocles, 
how miserable he was in the midst of all his trea- 
sures; and in possession of all the honours and en- 
joyments which royalty could bestow. — cicero. 

People of moderate, easy circumstances, burst and 
come to nothing, by vying with those whose estates 



126 

are more ample than their own. Sir Changeliii" 
Plumstock was possessed of a very considerable 
estate, devolved to hm by the death of an old uncle, 
who had adopted him his heir. He had a false taste 
of happiness : and without the least economy, trust- 
ing to the sufficiency of his vast revenue, was resolv- 
ed to be outdone by nobody, in showish grandeur and 
expensive living. He gave five thousand pounds for 
a piece of ground in the country, to set a house upon ; 
the building and furniture of which cost fifty thou- 
sand more; and his gardens were proportionably 
magnificent. Besides which, he thought himself 
under the necessity of buying out two or three tene- 
ments which stood in his neighbourhood, that he 
might have elbow room enough. All this he could 
very well bear; and still might have been happy, had 
it not been for an unfortunate view which he one day 
happened to take of my Lord Castlebuilders' gar- 
dens, which consisted of twenty acres, whereas his 
own were not $bove twelve. From that time he grew 
pensive ; and before the ensuing winter gave five and 
thirty years purchase for a dozen acres more to en- 
large his gardens, built a couple of exorbitant green- 
houses, and a large pavilion at the farther end of the 
terrace walk- The bare repairs and superintendences 
of all which, call for the remaining part of his in- 
come. He is mortgaged pretty deep, and pays no- 



127 



body; but being a privileged person, resides altoge- 
ther at a private cheap lodging in the city of West- 
minster. 



HE WHO IS ACCUSTOMED TO SPEAK FALSEHOOD, 
WILL NOT BE CREDITED WHEN HE SPEAKS TRUTH. 

A certain shepherd's boy kept his sheep upon a 
common, and, in sport and wantonness, would often 
cry out, " The wolf! the wolf!" By this means he 
several times drew the husbandmen in an adjoining 
field from their work : who, finding themselves de- 
luded, resolved for the future to take no notice of his 
alarm. Soon after the wolf came indeed: the boy 
cried out in earnest ; but no heed being given to his 
cries, the sheep were devoured by the wolf. 

DILIGENCE AND PERSEVERANCE ARE OFTEN SU- 
PERIOR TO QUICKNESS. 

A hare insulted a Tortoise upon account of his 
slowness, and vainly boasted of her own great speed 
in running. " Let us make a match," replied the 
Tortoise, " I'll run with you five miles for five 
pounds, and the fox yonder shall be the umpire of the 
race." The hare agreed, and away they both started 
together; but the hare, by reason of her exceeding 
swiftness, outran the Tortoise to such a degree, that 
she made a jest of the matter; and, finding herself a 






128 

little tired, squatted in a tuft of fern that grew by 
the way, and took a nap ; thinking, that if the Tor- 
toise went by, she could at any time fetch him up, 
with all the ease imaginable. In the mean while, the 
Tortoise came jogging on with a slow, but continued 
motion, and the hare, out of a too great security, and 
confidence of victory, oversleeping herself, the Tor- 
toise arrived at the end of the race first. 



Rule 8, — Detached events sometimes convey 
in themselves a principle or admonition; so 
that its object requires neither previous or sub- 
sequent explanation. 

In each of the following examples, the principle or 
moral is distinguished by italics. 

Mathon happened to look into the two last chap- 
ters of a book of geometry and mensuration; as soon 
as he saw it, he was frightened with the complicated 
diagrams which he found there, about the frustums 
of cones, pyramids, &c. ; he shut the book in despair, 
and imagined, that none but a Sir Isaac New ton was 
ever fit to read it. 

But a proper method, with a little patient persever- 
ance^ will do much. His tutor happily persuaded him 
to begin the first pages about lines and angles ; and 



129 

he found such surprising pleasure in three weeks' 
time in the progress he daily made, that at last he 
became a very excellent geometrician. 

An old man had many sons, who were often falling 
out with one another. When the father had exerted 
his authority, and used other means in order to recon- 
cile them, and all to no purpose, at last he had re- 
course to this expedient ; he ordered his sons to be 
called before him, and a short bundle of sticks to be 
brought; and then commanded them, one by one, to 
try if, with all their might and strength, they could 
any of them break it. They all tried, but to no pur- 
pose, for the sticks being closely and compactly 
bound up together, it was impossible for the force of 
man to do it. After this, the father ordered the bundle 
to be untied, and gave a single stick to each of his 
sons, at the same time bidding him try to break it. 
Which, when each did with all imaginable ease, the 
father addressed himself to them to this effect : " O 
my sons, behold the pozcer of unity ! For if you, in 
like manner, would but keep yourselves strictly con- 
joined in the bonds of friendship, it would not be in 
the power of any mortal to hurt you; but when once 
the ties of brotherly affection are dissolved, how soon 
do you fall to pieces, and are liable to be violated by 
every injurious hand that assaults you." 

As a schoolmaster was walking upon the bank of 
a river, not far from his school, he heard a cry as of 

g 5 



130 

one in distress; advancing a few paces farther, he saw 
one of his scholars in the water, hanging by the 
bough of a willow. The boy had, it seems, been 
learning to swim with corks ; and now, thinking him- 
self sufficiently experienced, had thrown those imple- 
ments aside, and ventured into the water without 
them ; but the force of the stream having hurried him 
out of his depth, he had certainly been drowned, had 
not the branch of a willow, which grew on the bank, 
providentially hung in his way. The master took up 
the corks, which Jay upon the ground, and throwing 
them to his scholar, made use of this opportunity to 
read a lecture to him upon the inconsiderate rashness 
of youth. u Let this be an example to you," says 
he, u in the conduct of your future life, never to 
throw away your corks till time has given you 
strength and experience enough to swim without 
them." 

A fox having fallen into a well, made a shift, by 
sticking his claws into the sides, to keep his head 
above water. Soon after, a wolf came and peeped 
over the brink; to whom the fox applied himself 
very earnestly for assistance ; entreating, that he 
would help him to a rope, or something of that kind, 
which might favour his escape. The wolf, moved 
with compassion at his misfortune, could not forbear 
expressing his concern. '* Ah! poor Reynard," says 
he, u I am sorry for you with all my heart; how 



131 

could you possibly come into this melancholy condi- 
tion ?" " Nay, pr'ythee, friend/' replies the fox, 
" if you wish me well, do not stand pitying me, 
but lend me some succour as fast as you can; for 
pity is but cold comfort when one is up to the chin 
in water, and within a hair's breadth of starving or 
drowning." 

THE FALCONER AND THE PARTRIDGE. 

A falconer having taken a partridge in his net, the 
bird begged hard for a reprieve, and promised the 
man, if he would let him go, to decoy other par- 
tridges into his net. " No," replies the falconer, 
" I was before determined not to spare you ; but now 
you have condemned yourself by your own words : 
For he zoho is such a scoundrel as to offer to betray his 
friends to save himself deserves^ if possible y worse 
than death" 
A certain cardinal, by the multitude of his generous 
actions, gave occasion to the world to call him the 
patron of the poor. This ecclesiastical prince had a 
constant custom, once a week, to give public au- 
dience to all indigent people in the hall of his palace, 
and to relieve every one according to their various 
necessities, or the motions of his own goodness. One 
day a poor widow, encouraged by the fame of his 
bounty, came into the hall of this cardinal, with her 
only daughter, a beautiful maid, about fifteen years. 



132 

of age. When her turn came to be heard among a 
crowd of petitioners, the cardinal observing the marks 
of an extraordinary modesty in her face and carriage, 
•as also in her daughter, encouraged her to tell her 
wants freely. She blushing, and not without tears, 
thus addressed herself to him : My lord, I owe for 
the rent of my house five crowns, and such is my 
misfortune, that I have no way left to pay it, except 
that which would break my heart (and my landlord 
threatens to force me to it), which is, to prostitute 
this my only daughter, whom I have, hitherto, with 
great care, educated in the principles of virtue. What 
I beg of your eminence is, that you would be pleased 
to interpose your authority, and protect us from the 
violence of this cruel man, till by honest industry we 
can procure the money for him." The cardinal, 
moved with admiration of the woman's virtue and 
modest request, bid her be of good courage : then he 
immediately wrote a billet, and giving it into the 
woman's hand, u Go," said he, " to my steward, 
and he shall deliver thee five crowns to pay thy rent." 
The widow, overjoyed, and returning the cardinal a 
thousand thanks, went directly to the steward, and 
gave him the note. When he had read it, he told 
out fifty crowns. She, astonished at the circum- 
stance, and not knowing what the cardinal had 
written, refused to take above five crowns, saying, 
she mentioned no more to his eminence, and she was 



133 

sure it was some mistake. On the other hand, the 
steward insisted on his master's order, not daring to 
call it in question. But all the arguments he could 
use, were insufficient to prevail on her to take any 
more than five crowns. Wherefore, to end the con- 
troversy* he offered to go back with her to the cardi- 
nal, and refer it to him. When they came before 
that munificent prince, and he was fully informed of 
the business; u It is true," said he, " I mistook in 
writing fifty crowns; give me the paper, and I will 
rectify it." Upon which he wrote again, saying to 
the woman, " So much modesty and virtue deserve a 
recompense ; here I have ordered you five hundred 
crowns; what you can spare of it, lay up as a dowry 
to give with your daughter in marriage." 

THE OLD MAN AND HL8 ASS. 

An old man and a little boy were driving an ass 4o 
the next market to sell. " What a fool is this fel- 
low," says a man upon the road, u to be trudging it 
on foot with his son, that his ass may go light !" The 
old man, hearing this, set his boy upon the ass, and 
went whistling by the side of him. u Why, sirrah !" 
cries a second man to the boy, " is it fit for you to be 
riding, while your poor old father is walking on 
foot ?" The father, upon this rebuke, took down his 
boy from the ass, and mounted himself. " Do you 
see," says a third, " how the lazy old knave rides 



134 

along upon his beast, while his poor little boy is 
almost crippled with walking !" The old man no 
sooner heard this, tha^i he took up his son behind 
him. " Pray, honest friend," says a fourth, " is that 
ass your own ?" " Yes," says the man. " One would 
not have thought so," replied the other, " by your 
loading him so unmercifully. You and your son are 
better able to carry the poor beast than he you." 
" Any thing to please," says the owner: and alight- 
ing with his son, they tied the legs of the ass toge* 
ther, and by the help of a pole endeavoured to carry 
him upon their shoulders over the bridge that led to 
the town. This was so entertaining a sight, that the 
people ran in crowds to laugh at it; till the ass, con- 
ceiving a dislike to the over-complaisance of his mas- 
ter, burst asunder the cords that tied him, slipped 
from the pole, and tumbled into the river. The poor 
old man made the best of his way home, ashamed 
and vexed, that by by endeavouring to please every 
body, he had pleased nobody , and lost his ass into the 
bargain. 

Rule 9. — Biography is a successive account 
of the events which have affected or distin- 
guished particular individuals. 

In every biographical narrative there are some pe- 
culiar circumstances, by which the person's life has 



135 

been rendered remarkable. The business of the 
pupil will be to observe them, and to acquire the 
habit of discriminating them. 

In the following examples these characteristics are 
pointed out, by being printed in italics. 

The account of any man's life always inclines to 
the faculty, propensity, or quality for which he was 
remarkable. If he were remarkably good, his bio- 
graphy consists, in the greater part, of instances of 
his goodness. If he were wise, it is chiefly formed of 
the proofs of his judgment. Now, as goodness is 
various, and as wisdom, learning, and power are 
equally so, the pupil in order to understand and re- 
member any biographical account, will observe the 
following : 

Rule 10. — In biography, observe the parti- 
cular qualities for which the person is admired 
or esteemed; and observe the instances which 
are given of those qualities. 



THE FOUNDER OF CHRISTIANITY. 

He was the apparent son of a carpenter's wife, and 
he was himself a carpenter. So poor were his re- 
puted parents, that at the time of his birth his mother 
could obtain no better lodging than a stable; and so 



136 

poor was he himself, that he often had no lodging 
at all. 

That he had no advantages of education, we may 
infer from the-surprise expressed by his neighbours 
on hearing him speak in the synagogue : " Whence 
hath this man these things? What wisdom is this 
which is given him ? Is not this the carpenter, the 
son of Mary ? Are not his brethren and sisters with 
us?" This point, however, we need not insist on; 
as from no education, that his own or any other 
country could have afforded, was it possible for him 
to derive that supernatural wisdom and power, that 
sanctity of life, and that purity of doctrine, which so 
eminently distinguish him? 

His first adherents were a few fishermen ; for whom 
he was so far from making any provision, that, when 
he sent them out to preach repentance and heal dis- 
eases, they were, by his desire, furnished with no- 
thing but one coat, a pair of sandals, and a staff. 
He went about, in great humility and meekness, doing 
good, teaching wisdom, and glorifying God, for the 
space of about three years after the commencement 
of his ministry ; and then, as he himself had foreseen 
and foretold, he was publicly crucified. 

This is the great personage who still gives law to 
the world. This is he, who has been the author of 
yirtue and happiness to millions and millions of 
the human race. And this is he whom the wisest 



137 



and best men that ever lived have reverenced as a divine 
person, and gloried in as the deliverer and saviour of 
mankind. 



PYTHAGORAS. 

It was in the reign of Tarquin the Proud, at Rome, 
that this great man did so much honour to Greece 
and to Italy. He was believed to be a native 
of Samos ; and having heard the reasonings of a 
philosopher upon the immortality of the soul, 
immediately devoted himself to the study of philo- 
sophy. 

He travelled into Egypt, Phoenicia, Chaldea, and 
probably as far as the Indies, in quest of knowledge. 
Though a geometrician and astronomer, he looked 
upon virtue as the jirst of the sciences, and was per- 
suaded that he was born to make proselytes. After 
having taught some time in Greece, he went into 
that part of Italy which is called Magna Graecia, on 
account of the colonies by which it was peopled. 
Crotona, Metapontum, and Tarentum, were the 
places in which he chiefly resided, and where he 
openly harangued to reform the manners of the 
people. 

He lived in the same society with his disciples, and 
made them snbmit to a kind of noviciate, for at least 
two, and sometimes for Jive years ; during which time 



138 

they were to study in silence, as he did not imagine 
they were capable of reasoning till they had imbibed 
good principles. 

Pythagoras introduced into the western world a 
doctrine which he had imbibed in the east, where it 
prevailed from the remotest ages; namely, that of 
the metempsychosis, or transmigration of souls; 
which taught, that when men died their soul passed 
into and animated other bodies. If, for example, a 
man was vicious and wicked, his soul animated the 
body of some unclean animal, and passed through a 
progress of misery proportioned to his crimes in this 
life. Hence, and from other causes, Pythagoras and 
his followers religiously abstained from eating the 
Jlesh of dead animals, or of any thing that had had 
life ; and they never killed or destroyed any animal, 
from any cause whatever. 

DANGERS OF SLOTH AND LUXURY. 

Hacho, a king of Lapland, was in his youth the 
most renowned of the northern warriors. His martial 
achievements remain engraved on a pillar of flint, 
and are to this day solemnly carolled to the harp of 
the Laplanders, at the fires with which they celebrate 
their nightly festivities. 

Nor was he less celebrated for his prudence and wisdom 
than his valour; and, above all, his temperance and 



139 

severity of manners were his chief praise. In his early 
years he never tasted wine; nor would he drink out 
of a painted cup. He constantly slept in his armour, 
with his spear in his hand; nor would he use a battle- 
axe whose handle was inlaid with brass. He did 
not) however, persevere in this contempt of luxury; 
nor did he close his days faith honour. 

One day, after hunting- the gulog, or wild hog, 
being bewildered in a solitary fcrest, and having 
passed the fatigues without any interval or refresh- 
ment, he discovered a large store of honey in the 
hollow of a pine-tree. This was a dainty which he 
had never tasted : and being both faint and hungry, 
he fed greedily upon it. From this unusual and de- 
licious repast he received so much satisfaction, that 
at his return home he commanded honey to be served 
up at his table every day. 

His palate by degrees became refined and vitiated; 
he began to lose his native relish for simple fare, and 
contracted a habit of indulging himself in delica- 
cies: he ordered the delightful gardens of his palace 
to be thrown open, (in which the most luscious fruits 
had been suffered to ripen and decay, unobserved and 
untouched, for many revolving autumns,) and grati- 
fied his appetite with luxurious deserts. At length 
he found it expedient to introduce wine as an agree- 
able improvement, or a necessary ingredient, to his 
new way of living; and having once tasted it, he was 



140 

tempted by little and little to give loose to the ex- 
cesses of intoxication. His general simplicity of life 
was changed; he perfumed his apartments, and com- 
manded his helmet to be ornamented with beautiful 
rows of the teeth of the rein-deer. Indolence and 
effeminacy stole upon him by imperceptible grada- 
tions, relaxed the sinews of his resolution, and ex- 
tinguished his thirst of military glory. 

While Hacho was thus immersed in pleasure^ the 
king of Norway invaded his kingdom with a formid- 
able army. Hacho roused himself, and marched 
forward to meet him. Both armies joined battle in 
the forest where Hacho had been lost after hunting ; 
and the king of Norway challenged him to single 
combat, near the very spot where he had tasted the 
honey. The Lapland chief, languid and long un- 
used to arms, was soon overpowered, and before his 
insulting adversary struck his head from his body, he 
uttered this exclamation : "I fall a sacrifice to sloth 
and luxury. The honey which I tasted in this 
forest, and not the hand of the king of Norway, con- 
quers Hacho." 

THALES, HERACLITUS, DEMOCRITUS, AND 
SIMONIDES. 

Thales, born at Miletus 640 years before Christ, 
was the first Greek who treated of natural philosophy. 



141 

He gave general notions of the universe; and main- 
tained that an only Supreme Intelligence regulated 
all its motions. He discovered the cause of eclipses, 
which in those days were accounted prodigies. On 
being asked, whether a man could conceal his actions 
from the Deity, he answered, how should that be 
possible, since he cannot conceal from him even his 
thoughts ? He was the founder of the Ionic sect of 
philosophers; and his great knowledge procured 
him a place among the seven wise men of Greece. 

Heraclitus was a native of Ephesus, 500 years 
before Christ. We know little more of him than that 
• he was a professed misanthrope; that he beheld with 
pity all the actions of men ; that he constantly wept 
for their misery ; and thence obtained the name of 
the crying philosopher. 

Democritus was a native of Abdera in Thrace, and 
lived in the time of Xerxes king of Persia. As a 
philosopher he was in high esteem. His desire of 
knowledge induced him to travel through the greater 
part of the then known world ; and in these journies 
he spent a very considerable fortune. He lived in 
perfect indifference about all the events and casual- 
ties of life, and used to laugh at the follies and vices 
of mankind ; whence he obtained the appellation of 
the laughing philosopher. His residing chiefly among 
tombs and sepulchral monuments, inclined many to 
believe him disordered in his senses; and the inha- 



142 

bitants of Abdera entreated Hippocrates, the cele- 
brated physician, to go and see him. Hippocrates 
accordingly paid him a visit; but, on discoursing 
with him, immediately discovered him to be a man " 
of extraordinary knowledge and sound understand- 
ing. He died 361 years before Christ, and is said to 
have attained the age of 109 years. 

Simonides, a native of Ceos in Greece, was a poet 
and philosopher : he was the inventor of what is called 
artificial memory. He chiefly distinguished himself 
by his elegiac verses. His answer to Hiero king of 
Syracuse, who asked him, What is God? has often 
been recorded. Simonides at first desired one day 
to consider of the question ; when that was elapsed, 
he required two days more; then four, and so on for 
a considerable timej always doubling the space he 
had last requested. Hiero, surprised at this beha- 
viour, inquired the reason of it : u Because," an- 
swered Simonides, " the more I meditate on the 
subject, the more awful and incomprehensible I find 
it."' 

Among the favourites of nature that have from 
time to time appeared in the world, enriched with 
various endowments and contrarieties of excellence, 
none seems to have been more exalted above the 
common rate of humanity, than the man known 
about two centuries ago- by the appellation of the 
admirable Crichton ; of whose history, whatever we 



143 

may suppress as surpassing credibility, yet we shall 
upon incontestable authority relate enough to rank 
him among prodigies. 

V iriue, says Virgil, is better accepted when it 
comes in a pleasing form : the person of Chrichton 
was eminently beautiful ; but his beauty was con- 
sistent with such activity and strength, that in fenc- 
ing he would spring, at one bound, the length of 
twenty feet upon bis antagonist; and he used the 
sword in either hand with such force and dexterity, 
that scarce any one had courage to engage him. 

Having studied at St. Atadrfcw's in Scotland, he 
went to Paris in Jus twenfij-first year, and affixed on 
the gate of the college uf Nava? re a kind of chal- 
lenge to the learned of that university, to dispute 
with them on a certain day ; offering to his oppo- 
nents, whoever they should be, the choice of ten 
languages and of all the faculties and sciences. On 
the day appointed three thousand auditors assem- 
bled, when four doctors of the church and fifty mas- 
ters appeared against him ; and one of his antago- 
nists confesses, that the doctors were defeated; 
that he gave proofs of knowledge above the reach of 
man; and that a hundred years, passed without food 
or sleep, would not be sufficient for the attainment 
of his learning. After a disputation of nine hours, 
he was presented by the president and professors 



144 

with a diamond and purse of gold, and dismissed 
with repeated acclamations. 

From Paris he went away to Rome, where he 
made the same challenge, and had in the presence of 
the Pope and Cardinals the same success. After- 
wards he contracted at Venice an acquaintance with 
Aldus Manutius, by whom he was introduced to the 
learned of that city ; then visited Padua, where he 
engaged in another public disputation, beginning his 
performance with an extempore poem in praise of 
the city and the assembly then present, and con- 
cluding with an oration equally unpremeditated in 
commendation of ignorance. 

He afterwards published another challenge, in 
which he declared himself ready to detect the er- 
rors of Aristotle and all his commentators, either in 
the common forms of logic, or in any which his an- 
tagonists should propose, of a hundred different 
kinds of verse. 

These acquisitions of learning, however stupen- 
dous, were not gained at the expense of any plea- 
sure which youth generally indulges, or by the omis- 
sion of any accomplishment in which it becomes a 
gentleman to excel : he practised in great perfection 
the arts of drawing and painting, he was an eminent 
performer in both vocal and instrumental music, he 
danced with uncommon gracefulness, and on the day 



145 

after his disputation at Paris, exhibited his skill in 
horsemanship before the court of France, where at a 
public match of tilting he bore away the ring upon 
his lance fifteen times together. 

He excelled likewise in domestic games of less 
dignity and reputation ; and in the interval between 
his challenge and disputation at Paris, he spent so 
much of his time at cards, dice, and tennis, that a lam- 
poon was fixed upon the gate of the Sorbonne, di- 
recting those who would see this monster of erudi- 
tion, to look for him at the tavern. 

So extensive was his acquaintance with life and 
manners, that in an Italian comedy composed by him- 
self, and exhibited before the court of Mantua, he is 
said to have personated fifteen different characters ; in 
all which he might succeed without great difficulty, 
since he had. such power of retention, that once hear- 
ing an oration of an hour, he would repeat it ex- 
actly, and in the recital follow the speaker through 
all his variety of tone and gesticulation. 

Nor was his skill in arms less than in learning, or 
his courage inferior to his skill: there was a prize- 
fighter at Mantua, who, travelling about the world, 
according to the barbarous custom of that age, as a 
general challenger, had defeated the most celebrated 
masters in many parts of Europe; and in Mantua, 
where he then resided, had killed three that ap- 
peared against him. The duke repented that he 

H 



146 

had granted him his protection ; when Crichton, 
looking on his sanguinary success with indignation, 
offered to stake fifteen hundred pistoles, and mount 
the stage against him. The duke, with some reluct- 
ance, consented, and on the day fixed the combat- 
ants appeared : their weapons seemed to have been 
single rapier, which was then newly introduced in 
Italy. The prize-fighter advanced with great vio- 
lence and fierceness, and Crichton contented himself 
calmly to ward his passes, and suffered him to ex- 
haust his vigour by his own fury. Crichton then 
became the assailant, and pressed upon him with 
such force and agility, that he thrust him thrice 
through the body^ and saw him expire : he then di- 
vided the prize he hadwon, among the widows , whose 
husbands had been killed. 

The death of this wonderful man I should be wil- 
ling to conceal; did I not know that every reader 
will inquire curiously after that fatal hour, which 
is common to all human beings, however distin- 
guished from each other by nature or fortune. 

The Duke of Mantua having received so many 
proofs of his various merit, made him tutor to his 
son Vincentio di Gonzaga, a prince of loose man- 
ners and turbulent disposition. On this occasion it 
was, that he composed the comedy in which he exhi- 
bited so many different characters with exact pro- 
priety. But his honour was of short continuance ; 



147 

for as he was one night, in the time of Carnival, 
rambling about the streets, with his guitar in his 
hand, he was attacked by six men masked. Nei- 
ther his courage nor skill in this exigence de- 
serted him : he opposed them with such activity 
and spirit, that he soon dispersed them, and dis- 
armed their leader, who, throwing off his mask, dis- 
covered himself to be the prince his pupil. Crich- 
ton falling on his knees, took his own sword by 
the point and presented it to the prince ; who im- 
mediately seized it, and instigated as some say by 
jealousy, according to others only by drunken 
fury and brutal resentment, thrust him through the 
heart. 

Thus was the admirable Crichton brought into 
that state, in which he could excel the meanest 
of mankind only by a few empty honours paid to 
his m mory : the court of Mantua testified their 
esteem by a public mourning, the cotemporary wits 
were profuse of their encomiums, and the palaces 
of Italy were adorned with pictures, representing 
him on horseback, with a lance in one hand and a 
book in the other. 

THE REV. DR. ISAAC WATTS. 

Dr. Isaac Watts was bora at Southampton, 
July 17, 1674. The proficiency he made at school 

H 2 



148 

induced some persons of property to raise a sum suffi- 
cient to maintain him at one of the universities ; but 
his determination was soon fixed to remain among 
the dissenters, with whom his ancestors had long 
b^en connected. In 1690, he went to an academy 
superintended by the Rev. Thomas Rowe. 

His application at this academy was very intense, 
and perhaps few young men have laid in a larger 
stock of various knowledge. His leisure hours seem 
to have been very early occupied in poetical efforts, 
and particularly when, after leaving the academy in 
his twentieth year, he went to reside with his father 
at Southampton, and spent two gears in reading, me- 
ditation, and prayer, toft himself for the work of the 
ministry. 

At the end of this time, he was invited by Sir 
John Hartopp, to reside in his family at Stcke New- 
ington, near London, as tutor to his son. Here he 
remained about four or five years, and on his birth- 
day, 1698, preached his first sermon, and was chosen 
assistant to Dr. Chauncy, minister of the congrega- 
tion at Mark-lane. About three years after, he was 
appointed to succeed Dr. Chauncy, but had scarce 
entered on this charge when he was so interrupted 
by illness as to render an assistant necessary ; and, 
after an interval of health, he was again seized by a 
fever, which left a weakness that never wholly abated? 



149 

and in a great measure checked the usefulness of his 
public labours. 

While in this afflicting situation he was received 
into the house of Sir Thomas Abney , of Newington, 
knight and alderman of London, where fee was en- 
tertained with the utmost tenderness, friendship, and 
liberality, for the space of thirty-six years. Sir 
Thomas died about eight years after Dr. Watts be- 
came an inmate in his family, but he continued with 
Lady Abney and her daughters to the end of his 
life. Lady Abney died about a year after him, 
and the last of the family, Mrs. Elizabeth Abney, in 
1782. 

In this retreat he wrote the whole, or nearly 
the whole, of those works which have immorta- 
lized his name as a christian poet and philoso* 
pher. He occasionally preached, and in the puipit, 
though his low stature, which very little exceeded 
five feet, graced him with no advantages of appear- 
ance, yet the gravity and propriety of his utterance 
made his discourses very efficacious. 

He continued many years to study, and to preach, 
and to do good by his instruction and example, till at 
last the infirmities of age disabled him from the more 
laborious part of his ministerial functions, and being 
no longer capable of public duty, he offered to remit 
the salary appendant to it, but his congregation 
would not accept the resignation. His annual income 



150 

did not exceed one hundred pounds, of which he 
allowed one-third to the poor. 

His death was distinguished by steady faith, and 
composure, and deprived the world of his useful la- 
bours and example, Nov. 25, 1748, in the seventy- 
fifth year of his age. He expired in that house where 
his life had been prolonged and made comfortable, 
by a long continuance of kind and tender attentions 
of which there are few examples. 

Rule 11. — History is a successive and con- 
nected account of the events which have 
affected particular nations or people. Such 
are, the history of England; the hisfory of 
the Jews, &c. 

Rule 12.— The substance of history is termed 
chronology, which is merely a list of the 
events which have occurred to any nation or 
people, with the elates when each of those 
events "happened. 

The limits of this work do not admit examples of 
this branch of composition. It is mentioned here, 
in order to complete an arrangement which includes 
every species of writing. But, in order to assist the 



151 

pupil in the habits of understanding, discriminating, 
and retaining, what lie reads or hears of history ; 
let him adhere to the following precepts. 

Rule 13. — Observe the geographical situa- 
tion of the country where the events took 
place; its latitude and longitude, climate, the 
countries adjoining, &c. 

Rule 14. — Ascertain the chronology of the 
events ; and observe what was passing at the 
same time in the countries with which that one 
under consideration had intercourse. 

Rule 15. — Remark what the religion of the 
people is, and its particular ceremonies. 

Rule 16. — Observe what the government 
is; whether monarchical (consisting of one 
person, as a king); aristocratica (consisting 
of several persons, as nobles, who enjoy the 
dignity by descent); democratical (consisting 
of persons chosen by the people, as the English 
House of Commons); mixed (consisting of 
these together, as that of Great Britain); 



152 



ecclesiastical (consisting of priests, or those ap- 
pointed by ministers of religion); ox military 
(consisting of persons appointed or supported 
by the army.) 

OF THE DESCRIPTIVE. 

Rule 17. — A description is a detail of the 
particular circumstances, by which persons, 
places, and objects are distinguished from the 
rest of their species. 

In the following examples, the distinguished cir- 
cumstances are printed in italics. 

Rule 18. — The description of a person, some- 
times refers only to the figure and counte- 
nance. 

The following are examples : 

The exterior of this great prince, Henry the Fifth, 
as well as his deportment, was engaging. His 
stature was somewhat above the middle size; his 
countenance beautiful ; and his Umbs genteel and 
slender , but full of vigour. 

Who is she that, with graceful steps and with a 
lively air ', trips over yonder plain ? The rose blusheth 



153 

on her cheeks, the sweetness of the morning breatheth 
from her lips; joy. tempered with innocence and mo- 
desty, sparkleth in her eyes ; and from the cheerful- 
ness of her heart she singeth as she walks. Her 
name is health. 

The stature of William the Conqueror was tall; 
and the composition of his bones and muscles uncom- 
monly strong. 

The monk, as I judged from the break in his ton* 
sure, a few scattered white hairs upon his temples 
being all that remained of it, might be about seventy 
— but from his eyes, and that sort of fire which was 
in them, which seemed more tempered by courtesy 
than years, could be no more than sixty — Truth 

might lie between He was certainly sixty-five; 

and the general air of his countenance, notwith- 
standing something seemed to have been plant- 
ing wrinkles in it before their time > agreed to the 
account. 

It was one of those heads, which Guido has often 
painted — mild, pale, penetrating, free from all com- 
mon-place ideas of fat contented ignorance looking 
downwards upon the earth — it looked forwards; 
but looked as if it looked at something beyond this 
world. How one of his order came by it, Heaven 
above, who let it fail upon a monk's shoulders^ best 
knows; but it would have suited a Bramin, ar^d had: 

h 5 



154 

I met it upon the plains of Indostan, I had reve- 
renced it. 

The rest of his outline may be given in a few 
strokes; one might put it into the hands of any one 
to design, for 'twas neither elegant nor otherwise, but 
his character and expression made it so : it was a thin 
spare form, something above the common size, if it lost 
not the distinction by a bend forwards in the figure 
— but it was the attitude of entreaty ; and, as it now 
stands present to my imagination, it gained more 
than it lost by it. 

Rule 19. — The description of a person 
sometimes refers only to the manners. 

The following are examples : 

King Henry II. preserved his health by an abste- 
mious diet, and by frequent exercise. When he could 
enjoy leisure he recreated himself in learned conver- 
sation or in reading; and he cultivated his natural 
talents by study, more than any prince of his time. 
His affections, as well as his enmities, were warm and 
durable; and his long experience of the ingratitude 
and infidelity of men never destroyed the natural 
sensibility of his temper, which disposed him to 
friendship and society. 



155 

Virgil's temper was melancholy and thoughtful^ 
loving retirement and contemplation : though one of 
the greatest genuises of his age, and the admiration 
of the Romans, he always preserved a singular mo- 
desty ; and lived chaste, when the manners of the 
people were extremely corrupt. His character was 
benevolent and inoffensive. He was bashful to a de- 
gree of timidity. 

Grace was in all her steps; heart n in her eye; 
In ev'ry gesture^ dignity and love. 

A vulgar man is captious and jealous; eager and 
impetuous about trifles. He suspects himself to be 
slighted, thinks every thing that is said meant at him t 
if the company happen to laugh, he is persuaded they 
laugh at him; he grows angry and testy, says some- 
thing very impertinent, and draws himself into a 
scrape, by showing what he calls a proper spirit, arid 
asserting himself. 

A vulgar man's conversation always savours 
strongly of the lowness of his education and com- 
pany. It turns chiefly upon his domestic affairs, his 
servants, the excellent order he keeps in his owu 
family, and the little anecdotes of the neighbourhood; 
all which he relates with emphasis, as interesting 
matters. He is a man gossip. 



156 

Rule 20. — The description of a person 
sometimes refers only to the intellect. 

1. The genius of Dr. Robertson was not of that 
forward and irregular growth, which forces itself 
prematurely on public notice; and it was only a few 
intimate and discerning friends, who, in the native 
vigour of his powers, and in the patient culture by 
which he laboured to improve them, perceived the 
dawn of his future eminence. He possessed an early 
and enthusiastic love of stud?/. 

2. Much and often would he muse on other times, 
and dwell with the bards and sages, whose names are 
written in the books of fame and of eternity. His 
studies and his meditations were an habitual poetry. 
His fancy wandered chiefly in the mild retreats of the 
elder poetry, the banks-6f Maeander and the Mincio. 
The scenes of ancient Greece and JLatium were the 
hermit haunts of his imagination. 

3. In the fullness of time and in the maturity of 
poetical power came Pope. All that was wanting to 
his illustrious predecessors, found its consummation 
in the genius, knowledge, correct sense, and condensa- 
tion of thought, which distinguish this poet. 

4. Lady Jane Grey had received all her education 
with king Edward VI. and seemed even to possess a 
greater facility in acquiring every part of manly and 
classical literature. She had attained a knowledge of 



157 

the Roman and Greek languages, as well as of several 
modern tongues ; had passed most of her time in an 
application to learning; and expressed a great indif- 
ference for other occupations and amusements usual 
with her sex and station. Her heart, replete with 
this love of literature and serious studies, and with 
tenderness towards her husband, who was deserving 
of her affection, had never opened itself to the flat- 
tering allurements of ambition. 

Rule 21. — Descriptions of persons, some- 
times refer to more than one, and sometimes 
to all these parts of the general character. 

In these general views of persons, the pupil will 
take care to observe what is remarkable in the figure 
or countenance; what is peculiar in the manners; 
and what appears unusual in the attainments, the 
wisdom, or the genius of the individual. By care- 
ful recollection of and adherence to this instruction, 
it will not be difficult to perceive and remember the 
peculiarities of which the description of any person 
consists. 

The following are examples suited to this 
rule. 



158 



JULIUS CiESAR. 

Cassar was endowed with every great and noble 
quality that could exalt human nature, and give a 
man the ascendant in society; formed to excel in 
peace, as well as war; provident in council, fearless in 
action; and executing what he had resolved with an 
amazing celerity: generous beyond measure to his 
friends; placable to his enemies; and for talents, 
learning, and eloquence, scarcely inferior to any 
man. 

Cicero ranks him among the greatest orators that 
Rome ever bred; and Quintilian says that he spoke 
with the same force with which he fought; and, if 
he had devoted himself to the bar, would have been 
the only man capable of rivalling Cicero. Nor was 
he a master only of the politer arts, but conversant 
also with the most abstruse and critical parts of 
learning. 

He was a most liberal patron of wit and learning, 
wherever they were found; and, out of his love of 
these talents, would readily pardon those who had 
employed them against himself; rightly judging, that 
by making such men his friends, he should draw 
praises from the same fountain from which he had 
been aspersed. His chief passions were ambition, and 
love of pleasure; which he indulged in their turns to 
the greatest excess; yet the first was always predo- 



159 

minant; to which he could easily sacrifice all the 
charms of the second, and draw pleasure from 
even toils and dangers, when they ministered to his 
glory. He had frequently in his mouth a verse of 
Euripides, which expressed the image of his soul; 
that if right and justice were ever to be violated, 
they were to be violated for the sake of reigning. 
This was the chief end and purpose of his life ; the 
scheme that he had formed from his early youth; so 
that, as Cato truly declared of him, he came with 
sobriety and meditation to the subversion of the 
republic. 

RICHARD I. 

The most shining part of Richard's character was 
his military talents ; no man, even in that romantic 
age, carried courage and intrepidity to a greater 
height; and this quality gained him the appellation 
of Lion-hearted, Cceur de Lion. He passionately 
loved glory ; and as his conduct in the field was not 
inferior to his valour, he seems to have possessed 
every talent necessary for acquiring it. 

His resentments also were high ; his pride uncoil' 
querable ; and his subjects, as well as his neighbours, 
had therefore reason to apprehend, from the conti- 
nuance of his reign, a perpetual scene of blood and 
violence. Of an impetuous and vehement spirit, he 
was distinguished by all the good as well as the bad 



160 

qualities which are incident to that character. He 
was open, frank, generous, sincere, and brave ; he 
was revengeful, domineering, ambitious, haughty, and 
cruel; and was thus better calculated to dazzle men 
by the splendour of his enterprises, than to promote 
either their happiness or his own grandeur by a 
sound and well-regulated policy. 

As military talents make great impression on the 
people, he seems to have been much beloved by his 
English subjects; and he is remarked to have been 
the first prince of the Norman line who bore any re- 
gard to them. He passed, however, only four 
months of his reign in that kingdom : the crusade 
employed him near three years: he was detained 
about four months in captivity: the rest of his reign 
was epent either in war, or preparations for war, 
against France : and he was so pleased with the fame 
which he had acquired in the East, that he seemed 
determined, notwithstanding ail his past misfortunes, 
to have further exhausted his kingdom, and to have 
exposed himself to new hazards, by conducting an- 
other expedition against the infidels. 



Tlie merit of this prince, both in private and public 
life, may, with advantage, be set in opposition to 
that of any monarch or citizen, which the annals of 
any age, or any nation, can present to us. He seems, 



161 

indeed, to be the complete model of the perfect cha- 
racter, which, under the denomination of a sage or 
wise man, the philosophers have been fond of deli- 
neating-, rather as a fiction of their imagination, 
than in hopes of ever seeing it reduced to prac- 
tice : so happily were ail his virtues tempered toge- 
ther; so justly were they blended; and so power- 
fully did each prevent the other from exceeding its 
proper bounds. 

He knew how to conciliate the most enterprising 
spirit with the coolest moderation; the most obsti- 
nate perseverance, with the easiest flexibility ; the 
most severe justice, with the greatest lenity ; the 
greatest rigour in command, with the greatest affa- 
bility of deportment ; the highest capacity and incli- 
nation for science, with the most shining talents for 
action. 

Nature also, as if desirous that so bright a produc- 
tion of her skill should be set in the fairest light, 
had bestowed on him all bodily accomplishments; 
vigour of limbs, dignity of shape arid air, and a 
pleasant, engaging, and open countenance. By living 
in that barbarous age, he was deprived of historians 
worthy to transmit his fame to posterity; and we 
wish to see him delineated in more lively colours, 
and with more particular strokes, that we might at 
least perceive some of those small specks and 



I6S 

blemishes, from which, as a man, it is impossible he 
could have been entirely exempted. 

Rule 22. — Descriptions of places include 
some or all of the following circumstances: 
situation, climate, productions, both of na- 
ture and art; and their peculiar beauties, cu- 
riosities, advantages, and inconveniences. 

In reading or hearing the description of any place, 
the pupil must arrange its respective parts under the 
different heads mentioned in the rule. Every thing 
which can belong to the representation of a place 
will be found to be included in one of these. When 
he repeats the substances of a description, he will 
have no difficulty in recollecting all its parts, if he 
keep in mind the heads under which the whole ac- 
count must necessarily fall. 

In the following examples, the principal objects 
are distinguished by italics. 

MADRID. 

Madrid, though unfortified, being only surrounded 
by a mud wall, is the capital of Spain, and contains 
about 150,000 inhabitants. It is surrounded with 
very lofty mountains, whose summits are frequently 



163 

covered with snow. It is well paved and lighted, 
and some of the streets are spacious and handsome. 
The houses are of brick, and are laid out chiefly for 
show, convenience being little considered : thus you 
will usually pass through two or three large apart- 
ments of no use, in order to come at a small room 
at the end where the family sit. The houses in ge- 
neral look more like prisons than the habitations of 
people at their liberty ; the windows, besides having 
a balcony, being grated with iron bars, particularly 
the lower range, and sometimes all the rest. Sepa- 
rate families generally inhabit the same house, as in 
Paris and Edinburgh. Foreigners are very much 
distressed for lodgings at Madrid, as the Spaniards 
are not fond of taking strangers into their houses, 
especially if they are not catholics. Its greatest ex- 
cellence is the cheapness of its provisions ; but neither 
tavern, coffee-house, nor newspaper, excepting the 
Madrid Gazette, is to be found in the whole city. 

The royal palace stands on an eminence, on the west 
side of the city : it is a spacious magnificent structure^ 
consisting of three courts, and commands a very fine 
prospect. Each of the fronts is 470 feet in length, 
and 100 high, and there is no palace in Europe fated 
up with greater magnificence; the great audience- 
chamber especially, which is 120 feet long and hung 
with crimson velvet, richly embroidered with gold: 
it is ornamented also with twelve looking-glasses 



164 

made at St. Ildefonso, each ten feet high, and with 
twelve tables of the finest Spanish marble. The 
other royal palaces round it are designed for hunting- 
seats, or houses of retirement for the king. Some 
of them contain jine paintings and good statues. The 
chief of those palaces are, the Buen Retiro (now 
stripped of all its best pictures and furniture), Casa 
del Campo, Aranjuez, and St. Ildefonso. 

THE CAPITAL OF PORTUGAL. 

Lisbon, the capital of Portugal, is situated on the 
north side of the mouth of the Tagus. It stands on 
seven hills, and contains many grand edifices, among 
which one of the principal is the patriarchal church. 
The treasures of sacred relics, gold, silver, precious 
stones, and costly furniture, of this venerable edifice, 
are immense. The new square, called Pracado Com- 
mercio, is 615 feet long, and 550 broad : in the centre 
is a noble equestrian statue of bronze of Joseph I. 
The new church, built by her present majesty, is the 
largest and most magnificent edifice erected in Lisbon 
since the earthquake in 1755, the fatal effects of which 
are still visible in many parts of the city, and never 
fail to impress every spectator with an awful remem- 
brance of that disaster : according to the most accu- 
rate accounts, there were not less than 24,000 victims 
to it. The Portuguese have, however, availed them- 
selves of this misfortune, and, like the English after 



165 

the destructive fire of 1666, have turned the tempo- 
rary evil into a permanent good. 

All the new streets erected in Lisbon, in the place 
of the old, are capacious, regular ', and well-paved, 
with convenient footpaths for passengers, as in the 
streets of London. In point of cleanliness, Lisbon 
is no longer a subject of so much animadversion to 
strangers as formerly; but it still wants common 
sewers, and water-pipes. 

Lisbon is deservedly accounted the greatest port in 
Europe, next to London and Amsterdam : the harbour 
is spacious and secure, and the city itself is guarded 
from any sudden attack towards the sea by forts, 
though these would make but a poor defence against 
ships of war. 

HERCULANEUM. 

An inexhaustible mine of ancient curiosities exists 
in the ruins of Herculaneum, a city lying between 
Naples and Mount Vesuvius, which, in thy first years 
of the reign of Titus, was overwhelmed by a stream 
of lava from the neighbouring volcano. This lava is 
now of a consistency which renders it extremely dif- 
ficult to be removed ; being composed of bituminous 
particles, mixed with cinders, minerals, a:id vitrified 
substances, which all together form a close and pon- 
derous mass. 



166 

In the revolution of many ages, the spot it stood 
upon was entirely forgotten; but in the year 1713 
it was accidentally discovered by some labourers, who, 
in digging a well, struck upon a statue on the benches 
of the theatre. Several curiosities were dug out 
and sent to France, but the search was soon discon- 
tinued ; and Herculaneum remained in obscurity till 
the year 1736, when the king of Naples employed 
men to dig perpendicularly eighty feet deep ; where- 
upon not only the city made its appearance, but also 
the bed of the river which ran through it. In the 
temple of Jupiter were found a statue of gold, and 
the inscription that decorated the great doors of the 
entrance. Many curious appendages of opulence 
and luxury have since been discovered in various 
parts of the city, and were arranged in a wing of the 
palace of Naples, among which are statues, busts, 
and altars; domestic, musical, and surgical instru- 
ments; tripods, mirrors of polished metal, silver ket- 
tles, and a lady's toilet furnished with combs, thim- 
bles, rings ? ear-rings, &c. 

A large quantity of manuscripts was also found 
among the ruins ; and very sanguine hopes were 
entertained by the learned, that nlany works of the 
ancients would be restored to light, and that a new 
mine of science was on the point of being opened; 
but the difficulty of unrolling the burnt parchments, 
and of decyphering the obscure letters, has proved . 



167 

such an obstacle, that very little progress has been 
made in the work. 

The streets of Herculaneuni seem to have been 
perfectly straight and regular ; the houses well built, 
and generally uniform: and the i~ooms paved either 
with large Roman bricks, mosaic work, or fine marble. 
It appears that the town was not filled up so unex- 
pectedly with the melted lava, as to prevent the 
greatest part of the inhabitants from escaping with 
their richest effects; for there were not more than a 
dozen skeletons found, and but little gold or precious 
stones. 

The town of Pompeii was involved in the same 
dreadful catastrophe; but was not discovered till 
near forty years after the discovery of Herculaneum. 
Few skeletons were found in the streets of Pompeii; 
but in the houses there were many, in situations 
which plainly proved that they were endeavouring to 
escape when the tremendous torrent of burning lava 
intercepted their retreat. 

THE METROPOLIS OF CHINA. 

Peking, the capital of the empire of China, and 
the usual residence of the emperors, h situated in a 
very fertile plain, twenty leagues distant from the 
great wall. It is an oblong square, and is divided 
into two cities. That which contains the emperor's 
palace is called the Tartar city, because the houses 



168 

were given to the Tartars when the present family 
came to the throne : and they, refusing to suffer the 
Chinese to inhabit it, forced them to live without 
the walls, where they in a short time built a new 
city ; which, by being joined to the other, renders 
the whole of an irregular form, six leagues in 
compass. 

The walls and gates of Peking are of the surprising 
height of seventy-Jive feet, so that they hide the 
whole city : and are so broad, that sentinels are 
placed upon them on horseback; for there are slopes 
within the city of considerable length, by which 
horsemen may ascend the walls, and in several places 
there are houses built for the guard?. The gates, 
which are nine in number, are neither embellished 
with statues nor other carving ; all their beauty con- 
sisting in their prodigious height, whicn, at a dis- 
tance, gives them a noble appearance. The arches 
of the gates are built of marble ; and the rest with 
large bricks, cemented with excellent mortar. 

Most of the streets are built in a straight line; the 
largest are about ISO feet broad, and a league in 
length. The shops whore silks and porcelain are sold, 
generally take up the whole street, and afford a very 
agreeable prospect. Each shopkeeper places before 
his shop, on a small kind of pedestal, aboard about 
twenty feet high ; painted, varnished, and often gilt ; 
on which are written, in large characters, the names 



169 

of the commodities which he sella. These being 
placed on each side of the street, at nearly an equal 
distance from each other, have a very pretty appear- 
ance; but the houses arc poorly built in front, and 
very low ; most of them having only a ground floor, 
and none exceeding one story above it. 

Of all the buildings in this great city, the most 
remarkable is the imperial palace, the grandeur of 
which does not consist so much in the nobleness and 
elegance of the architecture, as in the multitude of 
its buildings, courts, and gardens, all regularly dis- 
posed : for within the walls are not only the emper- 
or's house, but a little town, inhabited by the officers 
of the court, and a multitude of artificers employed 
and kept by the emperor ; but the houses of the 
courtiers and artificers are low and ill contrived. 

The gardens of this palace are large tracts of ground 
in which are raised, at proper distances, artificial 
mountains, from twenty to sixty feet high : these form 
a number of smal^ valleys, plentifully watered by 
canals; which, uniting, form small lakes. Beau- 
tiful and magnificent barks sail on these pieces of 
water; and the banks are ornamented with ranges of 
buildings, no two of which are said to have any re- 
semblance to each other; which diversity produces a 
very pleasing effect. 

The population of the Tartar city, is stated at one 
million and a quarter. According to the best infor- 



170 

mation given to the late English embassy, the whole 
population of Peking is about three millions. 

METROPOLIS OF TURKEY. 

Constantinople, the capital of Turkey, is finely 
situated on the European side of the Bosphorus. It 
was built upon the ruins of the antient Byzantium, by 
the Roman emperor, Constantine the Great, as a 
more inviting situation than Rome for the seat of 
empire. It is at this day one of the fittest cities in the 
world, on account of its port. 

The most regular part is the Besestin, inclosed 
with walls and gates, where the merchants have their 
shops excellently ranged. In another part of the 
city is the Hippodrome, an oblong square of four 
hundred paces by one hundred, where they exercise 
on horseback. The Meidan, or parade, is a large 
spacious square, the general resort of all ranks. On 
the opposite side of the port ar$ four towns ; but 
considered as a part of the suburbs, their distance 
being so small that a person may easily be heard on 
the other side. They are named Pera, Galata, Scu- 
tari, and Tophana. In Pera the foreign ambassa- 
dors and all the Franks or strangers reside, not being 
permitted to live in the city. Galata also, is mostly 
inhabited by Franks or Jews, and is a place of great 
trade. 



171 

The tomb of Constant ine the Great is still preserved. 
The mosque of St. Sophia, once a Christian church, 
is thought in some respects to exceed, in grandeur and 
architecture, St. Peter's at Rome. The city is built 
in a triangular form, with the seraglio standing on a 
point of one of the angles, whence there is a pros- 
pect of the delightful coast of Lesser Asia, which is 
not to be equalled. When we speak of the seraglio y 
we do not mean the apartments in which the grand 
.seignior's women are confined, as is commonly ima- 
gined; but the whole inclosure of the Ottoman palace, 
which might well suffice for a moderate town. The 
wall which surrounds the seraglio is thirty feet high, 
having battlements, embrasures, and towers, in the 
style of ancient fortifications. There are in it nine 
gates, but only two of them magnificent; and from 
one of these, the Baba Hoomajun, or sublime gate, 
the Ottoman court takes the name of the Porte, or 
the Sublime Porte, in all public transactions and 
records. 

Both the magnitude and population of Constanti- 
nople have been greatly exaggerated by credulous 
travellers. It is surrounded by a high and thick wall, 
with battlements after the oriental manner; and 
towers, defended by a lined but shallow ditch, the 
works of which are double on the land side. 

The inhabitants, according to the best accounts, do 
not exceed four hundred thousand, including the su- 

x 2 



172 

biirbs of Galata, Pera, Tophana, and Scutari. Of 
these, two hundred thousand are Turks, one hundred 
thousand Greeks, and the remainder Jews, Arme- 
nians, and Franks of all the European nations. 

The seraglio, or palace of the emperor, is so ex- 
tensive that it is said to occupy the whole of the 
ground on which the antient city of Byzantium stood. 
The treasures contained within this imperial resi- 
dence are prodigious ; and its furniture is distinguish- 
ed not by its variety, but the richness of the materials 
of which it is composed. Silk and cloth of gold are 
here substituted for cotton and woollen stuffs ; fringes 
are strung with pearl and inferior jewels ; and the 
walls are wainscoted with jasper, mother-of-pearl, and 
veneered ivory. In the audience-chamber, where 
the ambassadors are received by the Sultan in person, 
is a throne as resplendent as the mines of the East 
can make it. 

THE LOST CITY OF BABYLON. 

In extent it far exceeded Nineveh, and its walls 
were of sufficient thickness to allow six chariots to 
run abreast upon tKem. 

On each side of the square, formed by these walls, 
were twenty-five gates, that is, a hundred gates in all. 
These gates were made of solid bfass. Hence it is, 
that when, according to the holy scripture, God pro- 
mised to Cyrus the conquest of Babylon, he tells 



173 

him, that he would break in pieces before him the gates 
of brass. 

A branch of the river Euphrates ran through the 
city, over which was thrown a magnificent bridge. 
At the ends of the bridge were two palaces, which had 
a communication with each other by means of o. vault 
built under the chaiinel of the river. 

The hanging gardens of this city, so celebrated 
among the Greeks, contained a square of four hun- 
dred feet on every side. The ascent was by stairs 
ten feet wide ; the pile was supported by vast arches 
raised upon other arches, and strengthened by a wall 
twenty-two feet thick. The whole was covered with 
thick sheets of lead, upon which was laid the mould, 
or earth of the garden. This mould was so deep, 
that the largest trees might take root in it. 

In the upper terrace of the garden was an engine, 
by which water was drawn up from the river to wa- 
ter the garden with. In the spaces between the se- 
veral arches upon which this curious structure rest- 
ed, were large and magnificent apartments, which 
were very light, and which commanded a beautiful 
prospect. 

Among the other great works of Babylon was thetem- 
pie of Belus, built for the worship of Belus, or Baal. 
The riches of this temple in statues, tables, cups, and 
other sacred vessels, all of massy gold, were im- 



174 

mense. Among other images was one of solid gold, 
forty feet high, which weighed a thousand talents. 

This amazing fabric stood till the time of the Per- 
sian king, Xerxes >. who demolished //, having first 
plundered it of all its riches. Alexander, on his re- 
turn to Babylon, from his Indian expedition, intend- 
ed to rebuild and beautify it, but his sudden and pre- 
mature death put an end to the undertaking. 

The precise spot on which this magnificent city stood 
is now unknown, A vast heap of ruins has, however, 
been discovered by some modern travellers on the 
banks of the Euphrates, and this heap is supposed to 
be the remains of Babylon. 



Rule 23. — Descriptions of objects are of two 
kinds ; one relating to living forms, and one to 
such as are inanimate : of the latter there are 
those which are the works of nature, and those 
which are produced by art. 

In descriptions of objects, the pupil will take care 
to observe the particular circumstance which distin- 
guish the one under consideration from others of the 
same class or species. In a general description of 
the elephant it is not necessary to remember that it 
has four legs, because they arc common to animals in 



6 



175 

general; but its large size, its trunk, (or proboscis), 
its ivory teeth, its sagacity, its docility, &c. are cir- 
cumstances peculiar to it, and are therefore to be no- 
ticed and remembered. 

In the description of any animal, or other object 
which differs from its own species in some particu- 
lar circumstance, that circumstance is the chief^ and 
generally the only object for attention : of this we 
should have instances in the black swan, the grey 
sparrow, the cow with two heads, the black rose, the 
black tulip, &c. 

In all descriptions, the object is represented mere- 
ly as it differs from other objects. If a person, at* 
tempting to describe a particular mountain, were to 
say, it is a large hill, no idea would be conveyed, by 
which that mountain could appear to be distinguish- 
ed from other mountains. But if he were to state 
that it is a lofty mountain, either of a certain height, 
or so high as to be always covered with snow, al- 
though in a warm climate; we should obtain one 
distinguishing circumstance. Its fertility or barren- 
ness ; the buildings on it, &c. would all serve as cha- 
racteristics. 

In every description, therefore, the pupil must ob- 
serve what it is which distinguishes the object ; and 
if he take care to select those only, he will have very 
little difficulty in retaining them. 



176 

In the following examples, the particular feature of 
each description are distinguished by italics. 

THE ELEPHANT. 

The elephant is the largest of all quadrupeds. 
Some of them are as much as eighteen feet in height. 
The nose of the elephant is a long and hollow trunk, 
which it uses as a hand; and its two long projecting 
teeth are what we call ivory. This animal is very 
docile and faithful, and is possessed of an extraordi- 
nary degree of strength : it is able to carry a burthen 
of thirty hundred weight. It feeds on grass and 
leaves of trees, and lives about one hundred years. 

THE CAMEL. 

Of all animals that man has subjugated to his do- 
minion, the camel is the most abject slave ; with in- 
credible patience and submission, he traverses the 
burning sands of Africa and Arabia, carrying bur* 
thens of amazing weight. 

The Arabs consider the camel as a gift sent from 
heaven : a sacred animal, without whose assistance 
they could neither subsist, traffic, nor travel. The 
milk of the camel is their common food. They also 
e$t its flesh, and its hair supplies them with materials 
for raiment. 



177 

In possession of their camels, the Arabs want no« 
thing-, and have nothing to fear. In one day they can 
perform a journey of a hundred and fifty miles into 
the desert, which cuts off every approach from their 
enemies. By the assistance of his camel, an Arab 
surmounts all the difficulties of a country which is 
neither covered with verdure, nor supplied with 
water. 

The tough and spungy feet of the camel are pecu- 
liarly adapted to a hot climate, for in the most fa- 
tiguing journeys they are never found to crack. The 
sand seems indeed their element, for as soon as they 
quit it and touch the mud, they can scarcely keep up- 
right. Their great power of abstaining from drink- 
ing, enables them to pass unwatered tracts of coun- 
try for seven or eight days, without requiring any 
liquid. They can discover water by their scent, at 
half a league's distance ; and after a long abstinence 
will hasten towards it, long before their drivers per- 
ceive where it lies. Their patience under hunger is 
such, that they will travel many days fed only with a 
few dates, or some small balls of barley-meal, or on 
the miserable thorny plants which they meet with in 
the deserts. 

A large camel will traverse the deserts with a load 
of a thousand or twelve hundred pounds. When about 
to be loaded, at the command of the conductor, the 
animals instantly bend their knees. If overburthen* 

i 5 



ITS 

ed, they give repeated blows with their heads to the 
person who oppresses them, and sometimes utter la- 
mentable cries. 

The Arabs affirm that the camels are so extremely 
sensible of injustice and ill-treatment, that they will 
retain the remembrance of an injury till an opportu- 
nity offers of gratifying their revenge. Eager to ex- 
press their resentment, they, however, no longer re- 
tain any anger when once they believe they have sa- 
tisfied their vengeance. 

THE HORSE. 

The noblest conquest ever made by man, is that 
of this spirited and haughty animal ; which shares 
with him the fatigues of war, and the glory of the 
combat. Equally intrepid as his master, the horse 
sees the danger and braves it ; inspired at the clash 
of arms, he loves it, he seeks it, and is animated with 
the same ardour. He also feels pleasure in the chace, 
in tournaments, in the course; he is all fire, but 
equally tractable as courageous; does not give way 
to his impetuosity, and knows how to check his incli- 
nations : he not only submits to the arm which guides 
him, but even seems to consult the desires of his 
rider. The horse is a creature which renounces his 
being, to exist only by the will of another; which 
he knows how to anticipate, and even express, and 
execute, by the promptitude and exactness of his 



179 

movements: he feels as much as we desire, does 
only what we wish, giving himself up without re- 
serve, and refuses nothing; makes use of all his 
strength, exerts himself beyond it, and even dies, the 
better to obey us. 

Such is the horse, whose natural qualities art has 
improved. His education commences with the loss 
of his liberty, and by constraint it is finished. The 
slavery or servitude of these creatures is universal ; 
and so antient, that they are very rarely found in 
their natural state. They always bear about them 
tokens of servitude, and frequently the cruel marks 
of labour and of pain : the mouth is deformed by the 
wrinkles occasioned by the bit, the flanks are scarred 
with wounds inflicted by the spur, the hoofs pierced 
by nails, and the attitude of the body is constrained 
from the impression of habitual shackles. 

As all parts of Europe are at present peopled, and 
almost equally inhabited, wild horses are no longer 
found there; and those which are found in America 
were originally European tame horses, which have 
multiplied in the vast deserts of that country, The 
astonishment and fear which the inhabitants of 
Mexico and Peru expressed at the sight of horses 
and their riders, convinced the Spaniards that this 
animal was entirely unknown in those countries; 
they therefore carried thither a great number* 



180 



THE PALACE OF ICE. 



During the rigorous winter in the year one thou- 
sand seven hundred and forty a palace of ice was built 
at Petersburg!*, which was fifty-two feet in length, 
seventeen in breadth, and twenty in height. The 
ice of the river Nava, nearly four feet thick, consti- 
tuted the only materials of which it was built. Blocks 
of ice were carved into ornaments, and being laid on 
one another were sprinkled with water of various 
colours. Six cannons were placed before this palace, 
manufactured of ice ; the trial with one of which was 
made in the presence of the whole imperial court, 
and the metal ball which they put in pierced a board 
two inches thick at sixty feet distance. 

Around this astonishing palace there was a beauti- 
ful balcony, the avenues of which were ornamented 
VfUhJlower-pots, of all sorts of plants, the branches 
and leaves of which were made of ice, and painted 
according to nature. On entering the building, a 
room with five windows was seen on each side: the 
frames were ice, and thin sheets of ice served instead 
of glass. The rooms were illuminated at night by a 
great number of lights, the beams of which pierced 
through the walls and through the roofs, because the 
building was from the top to the bottom trans- 
parent. 



181 

All the furniture in these rooms was of ice. In 
one of them was to be seen a toilette with ail its or- 
naments, a looking-glass, a clock, a chandelier with 
burning wax tapers, a bed, a glass-case with various 
figures in it, and a table with dishes, on which were 
meats, fruits, &c. all of ice, in imitation of nature. 

At the approach of spring this enchanting palace, 
with all it contained, was by degrees destroyed by the 
warmth of the sun. 

THE LION; 

The Lion is the most powerful, most terrible, most 
generous, and most noble animal in the world : these 
qualities are depicted in his figure, his eyes, and de- 
portment. He is very grateful for kindnesses lie 
may have received; but at the same time he never 
forgets injuries. His anger gives fire to his eyes y 
animates his countenance, and bristles up his mane : 
his thundering voice fills all other animals with 
terror. 

The Lion attacks every animal, but not till he 
is hungry, or when he4ias been irritated. One good 
meal satifies him for three days : but he can eat tvotnty 
pounds of flesh at once ; and drinks as often as he 
can find water, in order to cool his hot blood. 
Almost all other animals tremble and fly, if they do 



182 

but smell the Lion. This king of animals lives from 
twenty-jive to thirty years. 

THE PEAK OF TENERIFFE. 

Teneriffe, one of the Canary Islands, is famous for 
its lofty mountain called the Peak, which rises like a 
sugar-loaf in the middle of the island, and may be 
seen at sea, in clear weather, at a hundred and twenty 
miles 1 distance. — Some authors make the side of the 
mountain fifteen miles, and others three or four times 
that number; computing, perhaps, the winding- 
ascent. Its perpendicular height above the level of 
the sea is about three miles. 

The Peak of Teneriffe is undoubtedly one of the 
highest mountains in the world ; being little short of 
mount Blanc, the highest of the Alps. It is true 
that Chimboraco in Peru, the highest mountain in 
the world, is nearly a mile and a half higher; yet 
this extraordinary elevation is not so perceptible, be- 
cause, like most other mountains, it stands among 
others of kindred height : but Teneriffe stands by 
itself in the middle of the ocean, and loses nothing 
of its wonderful elevation to the imagination of the 
spectator. 

Yet extraordinary as is the height of this moun- 
tain, it subtracts no more from the rotundity of the 



1*3 

earth, than do the slight inequalities on the surface 
of an orange from its roundness. The height of 
Teneriffe is three miles ; the diameter of the earth 
is eight thousand miles, so that the Peak of Tene- 
riffe is only the two thousand six hundred and sixty- 
sixth part of the earth's diameter, and probably the 
inequalities on the rind of an orange are equal to 
the five hundredth part of the diameter of that 
fruit. 

When certain travellers arrived, on the second day 
of their journey, near the summit of this mountain, 
they found a strong wind, and a continual breathing 
of a hot sulphureous vapour, which even scorched 
their faces. On the top there was a large bason, or 
pit, shaped like an inverted cone, which was of con- 
siderable depth, and about a musket-shot over. The 
inside of this cavity, or caldron, is covered with 
loose stones, mixed with sand and sulphur, from 
whence issued a hot suffocating steam ; and the foot- 
ing being bad, they did not descend to the bottom 
of it. 

The brim of this pit, on which they stood, was not 
above a yard broad: and from hence they could 
clearly see the grand Canary, Palma, Gomero, and 
even Ferro, which is sixty miles distant. As soon as 
the sun appeared, the shadow of the peak seemed to 
cover not only this and the great Canary island, but 
even the sea to the very horizon. They further re- 



i 184 

late, that there was much snow and ice about two- 
thirds of the way up, but at the top there was none 
at all; and th^y met with no trees or shrubs in their 
passage but pines, and a bushy plant like broom. 

THE LOADSTONE. 

Is a stone of a dark grey colour, and has the vir- 
tue of attracting iron. This virtue is not equal 
throughout the whole stone, but resides chiefly 
in two of its points, called the poles of the load- 
stone. 

When this stone is suspended by a string, and un- 
confined, it constant! y points one of its ends to the 
north , and the other to the south, if first put in mo- 
tion, and then left to itself. This regular direction, 
which only varies a little in some particular parts of 
the earth, has given the name of the north pole to 
that end of the stone which points to the north, and 
south pole to that which points to the south. 

The two properties of attracting iron, and point- 
ing toward the north, are communicated to iron by 
rubbing it against the loadstone. This discovery in- 
troduced the magnetic needle, so indispensably neces- 
sary to navigators in long voyages. 

These virtues in the loadstone have prompted na- 
turalists to examine it further, with the hope not 
only of finding the cause of such surprising effects, 



185 

but also of discovering new properties in the stone. 
They were more fortunate in the latter respect than 
in the former. It was observed that the loadstone 
does not at all times, and in all places, point directly 
to the north; but that it sometimes inclines a little to 
the east, and sometimes to the west, more or less. 
It was remarked, that its attractive powers were 
always equally strong, though some bodies were 
placed between the iron and the stone, which might 
be supposed to prevent the effect; as glass, fire, 
water, men, and animals, with every metal except 
iron. It was discovered, that in two loadstones, the 
two poles of the same (the northern and southern) 
repulsed, and seemed to fly from each other. It was 
therefore concluded, that the power of attraction 
might be in the iron as well as in the loadstone^ as 
they seemed to attract each other equally. 

In order to be convinced of the truth of this expe- 
riment, it is only necessary to hang a loadstone on 
one end of the beam of a balance, and put an equal 
weight at the other end ; and when the loadstone is 
balanced, and not in motion, to place a piece of iron 
under it : the loadstone will be immediately drawn 
down by the iron, and the other weight will fly up. 
If their situation be reversed, the loadstone will at- 
tract the iron in the same manner. 



186 



THE SALT MINE NEAR CRACOW IN POLAND. 

At Wielitska, a small town about eight miles from 
Cracow, this wonderful mine is excavated in a ridge 
of hills, at the northern extremity of the chain which 
joins to the Carpathian mountains; and has been 
worked above six hundred years. 

There are eight openings or descents into this 
mine, six in the fields, and two in the town itself. 
The openings are lined throughout with timber; 
and at the top of each there is a large wheel, with a 
rope as thick as a cable, by which things are let down, 
and the salt is drawn up. 

The descent is very slow and gradual, down a 
narrow dark well, to the depth of six hundred feet 
perpendicular. The place where the stranger is set 
down is perfectly dark ; but the miners striking fire, 
and lighting a small lamp, conduct him through 
a number of passages, and by means of ladders, 
they again descend to an immense depth: at the 
foot of the last ladder the stranger is received in a 
small dark cavern. 

When arrived in this dreary chamber, the miner 
contrives to extinguish his lamp as if by accident, 
and, catching the stranger by the hand, drags him 
through a narrow creek into the body of the mine; 
when there bursts upon his view a little world, the 



187 

beauty of which is scarcely to be imagined. He 
beholds a spacious plain, containing a kind of sub- 
terranean city, with houses, carriages, roads, &c. all 
scooped out of one vast rock of salt, as bright and 
glittering as crystal; while the blaze of the lights 
continually burning for the general use, reflected 
from the dazzling columns which support the lofty 
arched vaults of the mine, and which are beautifully 
tinged with ail the colours of the rainbow, and 
sparkle with the lustre of precious stones, affords a 
more splendid and glittering prospect than any 
thing above ground can possibly exhibit. 

In various parts of this spacious plain stand the 
huts of the miners and their families, some single 
and others in clusters like villages. They have very 
little communication with the world above ground; 
and many hundreds of persons are born and pass the 
vhole of their lives here. 

Through the midst of this plain lies a road, which 
is always filled with carriages laden with masses of 
salt from the furthest part of the mine. The drivers 
are generally singing, and the salt looks like a load 
of gems. A great number of horses are kept in 
the mine; and when once let down never see day- 
light again. 

The instruments principally used by the miners 
are pick-axes, hammers, and chisels; with which 
they dig out the salt in the form of huge cylinders. 



188 

each of many hundred weight. 'This is found the 
most convenient method of getting it out of the 
mine ; and as soon as got above ground, the masses 
are broken into smaller pieces, and sent to the mills, 
where they are reduced to powder. The fiaest sort 
of salt is sometimes cut into toys, and often passes 
for real crystal. 

This mine appears to be inexhaustible. Its known 
breadth is one thousand one hundred and fifteen 
feet, its length six thousand six hundred and ninety- 
one feet, and its depth seven hundred and forty-three 
feet. This, however, is to be understood only of the 
part which has been actually worked; as the real 
depth 6r longitudinal extent of the bed of salt, it is 
not possible to conjecture. 



THE PYRAMIDS OF EGYPT. 

The three pyramids that are most taken notice of by 
travellers, as exceeding all the rest both in bulk and 
beauty, are situated on a ridge of rocky hills, on the 
borders of the Libyan desert, about ten miles west- 
ward from the village of Geeza, which is supposed 
to be the spot where the ancient Memphis stood, 
though there are now not the least traces to be 
found of the ruins of that great and renowned 
city. 



189 

The largest of these pyramids, which has suffered 
least by tirae and weather, is six hundred and ninety- 
three English feet square at the basis, and its perpen- 
dicular height is four hundred and nine-nine feet : but 
if the height be taken as the pyramid ascends inclin- 
ing, it is then si* hundred and ninety-three feet; 
which is exactly equal to the breadth of the base, so 
that the angles and base make an equilateral trian- 
gle. The whole area therefore of the base contains 
four hundred and eighty -two thousand two hundred 
and forty-nine square feet, which is something more 
than eleven acres of ground. 

On the outside of this pyramid there is an ascent 
by steps; the breadth and depth of every step is one 
entire stone, and several of them are thirty feet in 
length. The top of the pyramid does not end in a 
point, as it appears to those who view it from below, 
but in a little square consisting of nine stones, be- 
sides two that are wanting at the angles. Each side 
of the platform is about sixteen feet ; so that a con- 
siderable number of persons may stand* upon it, 
whence there is one of the most beautiful prospects 
that can be imagined. 

On the north side of the large pyramid, sixteen 
steps from the bottom, there is a narrow passage 
leading downwards into the body of the structure. 
Those who have explored this passage find within, 



190 

galleries, chambers, and a noble hall, built of Thebaic 
marble situated in the centre of the pyramid. 

Ib this stately hall stands a tomb, which consists 
of one entire piece of marble hollowed, without any 
lid or covering ; and on being struck it sounds like a 
bell. The general opinion is, that it was designed 
for the tomb of Cheops or Chemnis, king of Egypt, 
the supposed founder of this pyramid. There is no 
appearance, however, of any corpse having been laid 
in it. 

OF OUR EARTH. 

The planet which we inhabit has its peculiar pri- 
vileges beyond the rest that depend upon the sun for 
their support. Less distant from the great luminary 
than Saturn, Jupiter, and Mars ; less parched than 
Venus and Mercury, which are more near to the 
violence of his power ; the earth seems in a peculiar 
manner to share the bounty of the Creator! it is not 
therefore without reason, that men consider them- 
selves as the favoured objects of his providence and 
regard. 

Beside that motion round the Sun, the circuit of 
which is peformed in a year, the Earth has another 
upon its own axis, which it performs in twenty-four 
hours. Thus, like a chariot-wheel, it has a compound 



191 

motion; for, while it goes forward on its journey, it 
is still turning upon its own centre. From the first erf 
these two causes, the progression forward, arise the 
grateful vicissitudes of the seasons; from the second, 
the rotation on the axis, that of day and night. 

The rotundity of the Earth may be proved from 
the phenomenon exhibited by two ships meeting at 
sea; the summits of the masts of each are the first 
parts discovered by both, the under parts being 
hidden by the convexity of the globe, which rises 
between them. 

The Earth is ninety-Jive millions of miles from the 
Sun, and it moves round the sun in three hundred 
and sixty-five days five hours and forty-nine minutes. 
It travels in this annual orbit at the rate of sixty- 
eight thousand miles an hour: which motion, though 
one hundred and forty times as swift as that of a 
cannon-ball, is little more than half the velocity of 
the planet Mercury in his orbit. 

As the Earth receives light and motion from the sun, 
so it derives much of its warmth and power of vege- 
tation from the same source. But the different parts 
of the Earth partake of these advantages in very 
different proportions, and the extremes of our globe 
seem equally unfitted for the comforts and conveni- 
ences of life. The imagination may find an awful 
pleasure in contemplating the frightful precipices of 
Greenland, or the luxurious verdure of Africa; yet 



192 

true happiness can be found only in the more mode- 
rate climates, where the gifts of nature may be en* 
joyed without incurring danger in obtaining them. 

When we take a slight survey of the surface of 
our globe, a thousand objects offer themselves, 
which, though long known, still demand our atten- 
tion. The most obvious beauty is the verdant cover- 
ing of the earth, formed by a happy mixture of herbs 
and trees of various magnitudes and uses. The 
more awful and magnificent objects are, the mountain 
rising above the clouds; the wide-spread river in- 
creasing as it runs, and losing itself at last in the 
ocean; and the mighty ocean, spreading its immense 
sheet of waters over one-half of the globe, swelling 
and subsiding at well-known intervals, and forming 
a communication between the most distant parts of 
the Earth. We are next presented with the great 
irregularities of nature ; the burning mountain, the 
unfathomable cavern, the headlong cataract, and the 
rapid whirlpool. 

If we descend below the surface of the globe, we 
perceive the earth lying in regular beds or strata, 
placed one over another like the leaves of a book, or 
the coats of an onion. Above it we find a transpa- 
rent atmosphere, that turns with its motion, and sur- 
rounds it on every side. To this atmosphere we are 
indebted for the twilight, that softens the transition 
from broad day to total darkness ; the genial showers 

4 



193 

that promote vegetation; and the cooling breezes 
that contribute to our health and comfort. 

Such are the delights of the habitation that has 
been assigned to man. Without any one of these he 
must have been wretched; and none of these could 
his own industry or invention have supplied, 



THE COFFEE-TREE. 

The coffee-tree, whose seeds or berries afford a 
well-known and agreeable liquor, is a native of Ara- 
bia Felix, where it generally rises to the height of 
seven or eight and sometimes twelve feet , with a trunk 
from ten to fifteen inches in circumference. 

It is covered with a grey smooth bark, and shoots 
out, through the whole length of its stem, a growth 
of branches which are always opposite to each other, 
and the leaves, which resemble those of the bay-tree, 
arranged in pairs in the same manner. From the 
bottom of the leaves spring fragrant white flowers 9 
very much like those of the jasmine ; and when these 
flowers or blossoms drop off they leave a small fruit 
behind, which is green at first, but reddens as it 
ripens, and is like a hard cherry both in shape and 
colour. Two, three, or more of these berries grow 
together, on the same part of the twig; each coated 
t. ith a husk or tegument, enclosing another and finer 

K 



194 

skin, in which two seeds or kernels are contained, 
which are what we call coffee. 

The fruit is usually gathered in May; which is 
done by shaking the trees, the berries falling on 
cloths spread underneath to receive them. These 
being laid on mats to dry in the sun, the outer husks 
are opened and separated by drawing rollers of wood 
or iron over them ; after which the berries are ex* 
posed to the sun a second time, and then sifted clean 
for use or sale. The husks, however, are not wasted; 
for the Arabs roast them as we do the berries, and 
the drink made of tbem, having a little tartness, is 
cooling and pleasant in the heat of summer. 

The drink made of coffee-berries has been common 
in Europe above a hundred years, and much longer 
among the Turks. 

Coffee was first brought into France by the famous 
traveller M. Thevenot; and a Greek called Pasqua, 
who was brought to England as a servant in 1652, 
first set up the profession of a coffee-house keeper.* 
and introduced the use of the liquor among us. 



THE TEA PLANT. 

Of all the vegetable productions of China, the tea 
plant deserves particular notice, as its leaves afford 



195 

by infusion a favourite liquor which is used daily 
among us by people of all ranks and conditions. 

This shrub, which seems to be a species of myrtle^ 
seldom grows beyond the size of a rose-bush, or at 
most six or seven feet in height. It thrives best in a 
gravelly soil, and is usually planted in rows upon 
little hills about three or four feet distant from each 
other. Its leaves are long, narrow, tapering to a pointy 
and indented like rose or sweet-brier leaves. The 
shrub is an evergreen, and bears a small fruit con- 
taining several round blackish seeds, about the big- 
ness of a large pea, but scarcely above one in a hun- 
dred comes to perfection. By these seeds the plant 
is propagated, nine or ten of them being put into a 
a hole together ; and the shrubs thence arising are 
afterwards transplanted into proper ground. They 
thrive best when exposed to the south sun, and yield 
the best tea ; but there is a sort that grows without 
cultivation, which, though less valuable, often serves 
the poorer class of people. 

The Chinese know nothing of imperial tea and 
several other names, which in Europe serve to dis- 
tinguish the goodness and price of this fashionable 
commodity. In fact, though there are various kinds 
of tea, they are now generally allowed to be the 
product of the same plant, differing only in colour 
and fragrance according to the difference of soil, the 
time of gathering, and the method of preparation, 

k2 



196 

The bohea tea chiefly differs from the green by its 
being gathered six or seven weeks sooner, when the 
plant is in full bloom, and the leaves full of juice; 
whereas the other, by being left longer on the tree, 
loses a great part of its juice, and contracts a diffe- 
rent colour, taste, and virtue. The bohea tea is ga- 
thered the beginning of March ; the bing, or impe- 
rial, in April; and the singlo, or green, in May or 
June. During all the months of gathering, the 
leaves on the top of the shrub are the finest and 
dearest, and are gradually coarser towards the bot- 
tom of the plant. 

The bohea isjirst dried in the shade, and afterwards 
exposed to the heat of the sun; the green is dried in 
the sun as soon as gathered; and both are afterwards 
convolved or shrivelled up in earthen pans over a 
shwjire. 

It is very rare to find tea perfectly pure, the Chi- 
nese themselves generally mixing other leaves with 
It to increase the quantity ; though the price among 
them is usually three-pence a pound, and never ex- 
ceeds nine-pence. 

Bohea tea, if good, is all of a dark colour, crisp 
and dry, and has a fine smell : green tea is also to be 
chosen by its crispness, fragrancy, and light colour 
with a blueish cast ; for it is not good if any of the 
leaves appear dark or brown. The essential quali- 
ties of tea reside in its fragrant and volatile parts. 



W7 

Tea was introduced into Europe in the year 1610 
by the Dutch East India Company. In 1666 it was 
sold in London at sixty shillings a pound. 



THE SUGAU CANE, 

The reed or cane which yields us such an agree- 
able juice, is like the reeds we generally see in mo* 
rasses and on the edges of lakes ; except that the 
skin of these latter is hard and dry ; and their pith 
void of juice, whereas the skin of the sugar-cane is softy 
and the pith very juicy, though in a greater or less 
degree according to the goodness of the soil, its ex- 
posure to the sun, the season it is cut in, and its age ; 
which circumstances contribute equally to its good- 
ness and its bulk. The sugar cane usually grows to 
the height of six or seven feet, sometimes higher, ex- 
clusive of the long green-tufted leaves at top, from 
the middle of which rise the flower and the seed. 
The stem or stalk is divided by knots or joints, 
whence likewise shoot out leaves, but these usually 
fall as the cane rises ; and it is a sign that the cane 
is not good, or that it is far from its maturity, when 
the knots are beset with leaves. The cane is yel- 
lowish when ripe, and about an inch in diameter. 

When the canes are ripe, they are cut up one at a 
time with a proper instrument, being too large to be 



JOS 

mowed by a scythe. The canes are then bundled 
up into faggots, and carried to the mills, which are 
very curious machines, contrived to bruise them, and 
press out the liquor or juice they contain. These 
mills are composed of three wooden rollers, covered 
with plates of iron, and are of four kinds, being 
turned either by slaves, water, wind, or cattle. 

The juice pressed from the canes is conveyed by a 
leaden canal into the sugar-house, where it passes 
successively into a number of coppers or caldrons, 
heated by different degrees of fire; by which pro- 
cess the juice of the canes is purified, thickened, and 
rendered fit to be converted into any of the kinds of 
sugar. 



THE ARGUMENTATIVE. 

Mule 24. — An argument consists of such an 
arrangement of facts or principles, already 
known and established, as demonstrates the 
truth or utility of some proposition hitherto 
undetermined. 

Rule 25. — In all argumentation there is 
a subject upon which the reasoning pro- 
ceeds. 



199 

In each of the following examples the subject is 
distinguished by italics. 

1. The love of praise should be preserved under 
proper subordination to the principle of duty. In 
itself, it is an useful motive to action; but when al- 
lowed to extend its influence too far, it corrupts the 
whole character ; and produces guilt, disgrace, and 
misery. To be entirely destitute of it, is a defect. 
To be governed by it, is depravity. The proper ad- 
justment of the several principles of action in human 
nature, is a matter that deserves our highest atten- 
tion. For when any one of them becomes either 
too weak, or too strong, it endangers both our virtue 
and our happiness. 

2. Nothing is so inconsistent with self-possession, 
as violent anger. It overpowers reason, confounds 
our ideas, distorts the appearance, and blackens the 
colour of every object. By the storms which it raises 
within, and by the mischiefs which it occasions with- 
out, it generally brings on the passionate and re- 
vengeful man, greater misery than he can bring on 
the object of his resentment. 

3. The spirit of true religion breathes mildness and 
affability. It gives a native, unaffected ease to the 
behaviour. It is social, kind, and cheerful; far re- 
moved from that gloomy and illiberal superstition, 
which clouds the brow, sharpens the temper, dejects 



200 

the spirit, and teaches men to fit themselves for 
another world, by neglecting the concerns of this. 

4. Virtue, to become either vigorous or useful, 
must be habitually active; not breaking forth occa- 
sionally with a transient lustre, like the blaze of a 
comet; but regular in its returns, like the light of 
day : not like the aromatic gale, which sometimes 
feasts the sense; but like the ordinary breeze, which 
purifies the air, and renders it healthful. 

5. The desires and passions of a man, having once 
obtained an unlimited sway, trample him under their 
feet. They make him feel that he is subject to vari- 
ous, contradictory, and imperious masters, who often 
pull him different ways. His soul is rendered the 
receptacle of many repugnant and jarring disposi- 
tions; and resembles some barbarous country, can- 
toned out into different principalities, which are con- 
tinually waging war on one another. 

6. In order to make us contented with our condi- 
tion, many of the present philosophers tell us, that 
our discontent only hurts ourselves, without being 
able to make any alteration in our circumstances; 
others, that whatever evil befals us is derived to us 
by a fatal necessity, to which superior beings them- 
selves are subject : while others, very gravely, tell 
the man who is miserable, that it is necessary he 
should be so, to keep up the harmony of the uni- 



201 

verse ; and that the scheme of Providence would be 
troubled and perverted, were he otherwise. These, 
and the like considerations, rather silence than sa- 
tisfy a man. They may show him that his discontent 
is unreasonable, but they are by no means sufficient 
to relieve it. They rather give despair than conso- 
lation. In a word, a man might reply to one of 
these comforters, as Augustus did to his friend, who 
advised him not to grieve for the death of a person 
whom he loved, because his grief could not fetch him 
again : " It is for that very reason," said the Em- 
peror, " that I grieve." 

On the contrary, religion bears a more tender re- 
gard to human nature. It prescribes to every miser- 
able man the means of bettering his condition : nay, 
it shows him, that bearing the afflictions as he ought 
to do, will naturally end in the removal of them. It 
makes him easy here, because it can make him happy 
hereafter. 

7. Of all the grounds of envy among men, supe- 
riority in rank and fortune is the most general. 
Hence, the malignity which the poor commonly bear 
to the rich, as engrossing to themselves all the com- 
forts of life. Hence the evil eye with which persons 
of inferior station scrutinize those who are above 
them in rank ; and if they approach to that rank, 
their envy is generally strongest against such as a?§ 

& 5 



202 

just one step higher than themselves. — Alas! my 
friends, all this envious disquietude, which agitates 
the world, arises from a deceitful figure which im- 
poses on the public view. False colours are hung 
out : the real state of men is not what it seems to be. 
The order of society requires a distinction of ranks 
to take place : but in point of happiness, all men 
come much nearer to equality than is commonly 
imagined; and the circumstances, which form any 
material difference of happiness among them, are not 
of that nature which renders them grounds of envy. 
The poor man possesses not, it is true, some of the 
conveniences and pleasures of the rich ; but, in re- 
turn, he is free from many embarrassments to which 
they are subject. By the simplicity and uniformity 
of his life he is delivered from that variety of cares, 
which perplexes those who have great affairs to ma- 
nage, intricate plans to pursue, many enemies per- 
haps to encounter in the pursuit. In the tranquillity 
of his small habitation, and private family, he enjoys 
a peace which is often unknown at courts. The gra- 
tifications of nature, which are always the most 
satisfactory, are possessed by him to their full ex- 
tent; and if he be a stranger to the refined pleasures 
*of the wealthy, he is unacquainted also with the 
desire of them, and by consequence feels no want. 



203 

Rule 26. — Sometimes the subject for dis- 
cussion requires not only to be stated, but also 
to be explained, before any reasoning can be 
employed upon it. This explanation is termed 
the definition. 

In each of the following examples, the definition 
is distinguished by italics. 

ON GOOD BREEDING. 

A friend of your's and mine has very justly defined 
good breeding to be, u the result of much good sense, 
some good nature, and a little self-denial for the sake 
of others, and with a view to obtain the same indulgence 
from them." Taking this for granted (as I think it 
cannot be disputed), it is astonishing to me, that any 
body, who has good sense and guod nature, can 
essentially fail in good breeding. As to the modes of 
it, indeed, they vary according to persons, places, 
and circumstances ; and are only to be acquired by 
observation and experience ; but the substance of it 
is every where and eternally the same. Good man- 
ners are, to particular societies, what good morals 
are to society in general; their cement, and their 
security. And, as laws are enacted to enforce good 
morals, or at least to prevent the ill effects of bad 
ones; so there are certain rules of civility universe 



204 

ally implied and received, to enforce good manners, 
and punish bad ones. And indeed there seems to 
me to be less difference, both between the crimes 
and punishments, than at first one would imagine. 
The immoral man, who invades another's property, 
is justly hanged for it; and the ill-bred man, who, 
by his ill-manners, invades and disturbs the quiet 
and comforts of private life, is by common consent as 
justly banished society. Mutual complaisance, at- 
tentions, and sacrifices of little conveniences, are as 
natural an implied compact between civilized people, 
as protection and obedience are between kings and 
subjects: whoever, in either case, violates that 
compact, justly forfeits all advantages arising from 
it. For my own part, I really think, that next to 
the consciousness of doing a good action, that of 
doing a civil one is the most pleasing ; and the epi- 
thet which I should covet the most, next to that of 
Aristides, would be that of well-bred. 



P&OCRASTINATIONv 

The folly of allowing ourselves to delay what we 
know cannot be finally escaped^ is one of the general 
weaknesses, which, in spite of the instruction of 
moralists, and the remonstrances of reason, prevail 
to a greater or less degree in every mind : even they 
who most steadily withstand it, find it, if not the 



205 

most violent, the most pertinacious of their passions, 
always renewing its attacks, and, though often van- 
quished, never destroyed. 

It is indeed natural to have particular regard to 
the time present, and to be most solicitous for that 
which is by its nearness enabled to make the strong- 
est impressions. When, therefore, any sharp pain is 
to be suffered, or any formidable danger to be in- 
curred, we can scarcely exempt ourselves wholly 
from the seducements of imagination; we readily 
believe that another day will bring some support 
or advantage which we now want; and are easily 
persuaded that the moment of necessity which we 
desire never to arrive, is at a great distance from us. 

Thus life is languished away in the gloom of 
anxiety, and consumed in collecting resolution which 
the next morning dissipates: in forming purposes 
which we scarcely hope to keep, and reconciling 
ourselves to our own cowardice by excuses, which, 
while we admit them, we know to be absurd. Our 
firmness is, by the continual contemplation of misery, 
hourly impaired : every submission to our fear en- 
larges its dominion ; we not only waste that time in 
which the evil we dread might have been suffered 
and surmounted, but, even where procrastination 
produces no absolute increase of our difficulties, 
make them less superabie to ourselves by habit. * 



206 



THE OMNIPRESENCE OF GOD. 

If we consider God's omnipresence, his being 
passes through^ actuates, and supports, the whole frame 
of nature. His creation, in every part of it , is full 
of him. There is nothing he has made, which is 
either so distant, so little, or so inconsiderable, that 
he does not essentially reside in it. His substance is 
within the substance of every being, whether mate- 
rial or immaterial, and as intimately present to it, as 
that befoig is to itself. It would be an imperfection 
in him, were he able to move out of one place into 
another; or to withdraw himself from any thing he 
has created, or from any part of that space which he 
diffused and spread abroad to infinity. In short, to 
speak of him in the language of the old philosophers, 
he is a being whose centre is every where, and his 
circumference no where. 

Rule 27. — Sometimes a principle or opinion 
is the subject of the reasoning. 

In each of the following examples the subject is 
distinguished by italics. 

The most excellent and honourable character which 
can adorn a man and a christian, is acquired by re- 



207 

sistbig the torrent of vice , and adhering to the cause of 
God and virtue against a corrupted multitude. It will 
be found to hold in general, that they, who, in any 
of the great lines of life, have distinguished them- 
selves for thinking profoundly, and acting nobly, 
have despised popular prejudices; and departed, in 
several things, from the common ways of the world. 
On no occasion is this more requisite for true honour, 
than where religion and morality are concerned. In 
times of prevailing licentiousness, to maintain un- 
blemished virtue, and uncorrupted integrity; in a 
public or a private cause, to stand firm by what is 
fair and just, amidst discouragements and opposi- 
tion ; despising groundless censure and reproach; 
disdaining all compliance with public manners, when 
they are vicious and unlawful ; and never ashamed 
of the punctual discharge of every duty towards 
God and man 5 — this is what shows true greatness of 
spirit, and will force approbation even from the de- 
generate multitude themselves. "This is the man," 
(their conscience will oblige them to acknowledge,) 
" whom we are unable to bend to mean condescen- 
sions. We see it in vain either to flatter or to 
threaten him ; he rests on a principle within, which 
we cannot shake. To this man we may, on any 
occasion, safely commit our cause. He is incapable 
of betraying his trust, or deserting his friend., or 
denying his faith*" 



208 

Nothing can be more contrary both to equity and to 
soimd reason, than precipitate judgment. Any man 
who attends to what passes within himself, may 
easily discern what a complicated system the human 
character is : and what a variety of circumstances 
must be taken into the account, in order to estimate 
it truly. No single instance of conduct whatever, 
is sufficient to determine it. As from one worth} 7 
action, it were credulity, not charity, to conclude a 
person to be free from all vice ; so from one which 
is censurable, it is perfectly unjust to infer that the 
author of it is without conscience, and without me- 
rit. If we knew all the attending circumstances, it 
might appear in an excusable light ; nay, perhaps, 
under a commendable form. No part of the govern- 
ment of temper more deserves attention, than to 
keep our minds pure from uncharitable prejudices. 

Men are too often ingenious in making themselves 
miserable^ by aggravating to their own fancy, beyond 
bounds, all the evils which they endure. They com- 
pare themselves with none but those whom they 
imagine to be more happy; and complain, that upon 
them alone has fallen the whole load of human sor- 
rows. Would they look with a more impartial eye 
on the world, they would see themselves surrounded 
with sufferers ; and find that they are only drinking 
out of that mixed cup, which Providence has pre- 
pared for all. — " I will restore thy daughter again to 



209 

life/ 5 said the eastern sage, to a prince who grieved 
immoderately for the loss of a beloved child, " pro- 
vided thou art able to engrave on her tomb, the 
names of three persons who have never mourned." 
The prince made inquiry after such persons; but 
found the inquiry vain, and was silent. 

It is a great mistake to imagine, that the pain of 
self-denial is confined to virtue. Vice allows all our 
passions to range uncontrolled; and where each 
claims to be superior, it is impossible to gratify all. 
The predominant desire can only be indulged at the 
expence of its rival. No mortifications which virtue 
exacts are more severe than those which ambition 
imposes upon the love of ease, pride upon interest, 
and covetousness upon vanity. Self-denial, there- 
fore, belongs, in common, to vice and virtue; but 
with this remarkable difference, that the passions 
which virtue requires us to mortify, it tends to 
weaken : whereas, tiose which vice obliges us to 
deny, it, at the same time, strengthens. The one 
diminishes the pain of self-denial, by moderating the 
demand of passion ; the other increases it by render- 
ing those demands imperious and violent. 

Rule 28. — Sometimes the reasoning does- 
not begin with the subject itself, but there is 



210 

an introduction (which orators call the ex- 
ordium.) 

In each of the following examples, the subject is 
printed in italics. 

The active mind of man seldom or never rests sa- 
tisfied with its present condition, how prosperous 
soever. Originally formed for a wider range of ob- 
jects, for a higher sphere of enjoyments, it finds 
itself, in every situation of fortune, straitened and 
confined. Sensible of deficiency in its state, it is 
ever sending forth the fond desire, the aspiring wish 
after something beyond what is enjoyed at present. 
Hence, that restlessness which prevails so generally 
among mankind. Hence that disgust of pleasures 
which they have tried ; that passion for novelty ; that 
ambition of rising to some degree of eminence or 
felicity, of which they have formed to themselves an 
indistinct idea. All which may be considered as in- 
dications of a certain native, original greatness in 
the human soul, swelling beyond the limits of its 
present condition : and pointing to the higher objects 
for which it was made. Happy, if these latent re- 
mains of our primitive state, served to direct our 
wishes towards their proper destination, and to lead 
us into the path of true bliss. 



211 

But in this dark and bewildered state, the aspiring 1 
tendency of our nature unfortunately takes an oppo- 
site direction, and feeds a very misplaced ambition. 
The flattering appearances which here present them- 
selves to sense ; the distinctions which fortune con- 
fers ; the advantages and pleasure which we imagine 
the world to be capable of bestowing, fill up the 
ultimate wish of most men. These are the objects 
which engross their solitary musings, and stimulate 
their active labours; which warm the breasts of the 
young, animate the industry of the middle aged, and 
often keep alive the passions of the old, until the 
very close of life. 

Greatness confers no exemption from the cares 
and sorrows of life; its share of them frequently 
bears a melancholy proportion to its exaltation. 
This the monarch of Israel experienced. He sought 
in piety that peace which he could not find in empire; 
and alleviated the disquietudes of state with the ex- 
ercises of devotion. David's invaluable Psalms con* 
vey those comforts to others, which they afforded to 
himself. Composed upon particular occasions, yet 
designed for general use ; delivered out as services 
for Israelites under the law, yet no less adapted to 
the circumstances of Christians under the gospel; 
they present religion to us in the most engaging 
dress; communicating truths which philosophy could 
never investigate, in a style which poetry can never 



212 

equal ; while history is made the vehicle of prophecy 9 
and creation lends all its charms to paint the glories 
of redemption. Calculated alike to profit and to 
please, they inform the understanding, elevate the 
affections, and entertain the imagination. Indited: 
under the influence of him, to whom all hearts are 
known, and all events foreknown, they suit mankind 
in all situations; grateful as the manna which 
descended from above, and conformed itself to 
every palate. 

Indolent good nature makes us rest satisfied with 
being free from inveterate malice or ill-will to our fel- 
low-creatures, without prompting us to be of service 
to any. True charity is an active principle. It is not 
properly a single virtue; but a disposition residing 
in the heart, as a fountain whence all the virtues of 
benignity, candour, forbearance, generosity, com- 
passion, and liberality flow, as so many native 
streams. From general good will to all, it extends 
its influence particularly to those with whom we 
stand in nearest connection, and who are directly 
within the sphere of our good offices. From the 
country or community to which we belong, it de- 
scends to tl/e smaller associations of neighbourhood, 
relations, and friends; and spreads itself over the 
whole circle of social and domestic life. I mean not 
that it imports a promiscuous undistinguished affec- 
tion, which gives every man an equal title to our 



213 

love. Charity, if we should endeavour to carry it 
so far, would be rendered an impracticable virtue; 
and would resolve itself into mere words, without 
affecting the heart. True charity attempts not to 
shut our eyes to the distinction between good and 
bad men ; nor to warm our hearts equally to those 
who befriend, and those who injure us. It reserves 
our esteem for good men, and our complacency for 
our friends. Towards our enemies it inspires for- 
giveness, humanity, and a solicitude for their wel- 
fare. It breathes universal candour, and liberality 
of sentiment. It forms gentleness of temper, and 
dictates affability of manners. It prompts corre- 
sponding sympathies with them who rejoice, and 
them who weep. 

Rule 29. — In all argumentation there is 
some point which it is the object of the reason- 
ing to establish : this point is called the 
judgment. 

In the following examples, the judgment is distin- 
guished by italics. 

Though no condition of human life is free from un- 
easiness, yet it must be allowed, that the uneasiness 
belonging to a sinful course is far greater than what 
attends a course of well-doing. If we are weary of 



214 

the labours of virtue, we may be assured that the 
world, whenever we try the exchange, will lay upon 
us a much heavier load. It is the outside only of a 
licentious life which is gay and smiling. Within, it 
conceals toil, and trouble, and deadly sorrow. Foe 
nice poisons human happiness in the spring, by intro- 
ducing disorder into the heart. Those passions 
which it seems to indulge, it only feeds with im- 
perfect gratifications; and thereby strengthens them 
for preying, in the end, on their unhappy victims. 

Amidst that familiar intercourse which belongs to 
domestic life, all the virtues of temper find an ample 
range. It is very unfortunate, that within that 
circle, men too often think themselves at liberty to 
give unrestrained vent to the caprice of passion and 
humour. Whereas there, on the contrary, more 
than any where else, it concerns them to attend to 
the government of their heart; to check what is 
violent in their tempers, and to soften what is harsh 
in their manners. For there the temper is formed. 
There, the real character displays itself. The forms 
of the world disguise men when abroad. But within 
his own family every man is known to be what he 
truly is. 

All men pursue good, and would be happy, if 
they knew how : not happy for minutes, and miser- 
able for hours ; but happy, if possible, through 
every part of their existence. Either, therefore, 



215 

there is a good of this steady, durable kind, or there 
is not. If not, then all good must be transient and 
uncertain ; and if so, an object of the lowest value, 
which can little deserve our attention or inquiry. 
But if there be a better good, such a good as we are 
seeking ; like every other thing, it must be derived 
from some cause, and that cause must either be ex- 
ternal, internal, or mixed; inasmuch as, except 
these three, there is no other possible. Now a 
steady, durable good, cannot be derived from an ex- 
ternal cause; since all derived from externals must 
fluctuate, as they fluctuate. By the same rule, it 
cannot be derived from a mixture of the two: be- 
cause the part which is external will proportionably 
destroy its essence. What then remains but the 
cause internal? the very cause which we have sup- 
posed, when we place the sovereign good in mind> — in 
rectitude of conduct. 

We are not to imagine, that a benevolent temper 
finds no exercise, unless when opportunities offer of 
performing actions of high generosity, or of exten- 
sive utility. These may seldom occur. The condi- 
tion of the greater part of mankind, in a great mea- 
sure, precludes them. But, iu the ordinary round 
of human affairs, many occasions daily present them- 
selves, of mitigating the vexations which others 
suffer; of soothing their minds ; of aiding their in- 
terest; of promoting their cheerfulness or ease. 



216 

Such occasions may relate to the smaller incidents of 
life. But let us remember, that of small incidents 
the system of human life is chiefly composed. The 
attentions which respect these, when suggested by 
real benignity of temper, are often more material to 
the happiness of those around us, than actions which 
carry the appearance of greater dignity and splen- 
dour. No wise or good man ought to account any 
rules of behaviour as below his regard, which tend to 
cement the great brotherhood of mankind in comfort' 
able union. 

No man is obliged to learn and know every thing, 
this can neither be sought nor required, for it is ut- 
terly impossible : yet all persons are under some 
obligation to improve their own understanding; 
otherwise it will be a barren desert, or a forest over- 
grown with weeds and brambles. Universal igno- 
rance or infinite errors will overspread the mind, 
which is utterly neglected, and lies without any cul- 
tivation. 

Skill in the sciences is indeed the business and 
profession but of a small part of mankind; but there 
are many others placed in such an exalted rank in 
the world, as allows them much leisure and large 
opportunities to cultivate their reason, and to beau- 
tify and enrich their minds with various knowledge. 
Even the lower orders of men have particular call- 
ings in life, wherein they ought to acquire a just de- 



217 

gree of skill; and this is not to be done well without 
thinking and reasoning about them. 

The common duties and benefits of society, which 
belong to every man living, as we are social crea- 
tures, and even our native and necessary relations to 
a family, a neighbourhood, or government, oblige all 
persons whatsoever to use their reasoning powers 
upon a thousand occasions ; every hour of life calls 
for some regular exercise of our judgment, as to 
time and things, persons and actions; without a 
prudent and discreet determination in matters before 
us, we shall be plunged into perpetual errors in our 
conduct. Now that which should always be prac- 
tised, must at some time be learnt. 

Besides, every son and daughter of Adam has a 
most important concern in the affairs of a life to 
come, and therefore it is a matter of the highest mo- 
ment, for every one to understand, to judge, and to 
reason right about the things of religion. It is vain 
for any to say, we have no leisure or time for it. The 
daily intervals of time, and vacancies, from necessary 
labour, together with the one day in seven in the 
christian world, allows sufficient time.for this, if men 
would but apply themselves to it with half as much 
zeal and diligence as they do to the trifles and amuse- 
ments of this life, and it would turn to infinitely 
better account. 

Thus it appears to be the necessary duty, and tfie 



SIS 

interest of every person living, to improve his under- 
standing , to inform his judgment, to treasure up use- 
ful knowledge, and to acquire the skill of good rea- 
soning, as far as his station, capacity, and circum- 
stances, furnish him with proper means for it. Our 
mistakes in judgment may plunge us into much 
folly and guilt in practice. By acting without 
thought or reason, we dishonour the God that 
made us reasonable creatures, we often become in- 
jurious to our neighbours, kindred, or friends, and 
we bring sin and misery upon ourselves : for we are 
accountable to God, our judge, for every part of our 
irregular and mistaken conduct, where he hath given 
«s sufficient advantages to guard against those 
mistakes* 



Huh 30. — Although the judgment or point 
to be established must always appear to be 
the unavoidable result of the reasoning, yet 
it is sometimes stated in the commencement of 
the discussion. In this case it is termed a 
proposition, the truth of which the arguments 
prove. 

The following are examples; in each of which will 
be found, that although the proposition is stated in 



219 

the beginning, yet it also seems to follow in the con- 
clusion by a necessary connection. 

Proposition. — We are capable of knowing cer- 
tainly that there is a God. 

Arguments. — Man knows, that he himself exists* 
He knows also, that nothing cannot produce a being, 
therefore there must be something eternal. An eter- 
nal being, must be most powerful, and most wise. 

Judgment. — Therefore we know that there is a 
God. " 

Prop. — Do not hover always on ther surface of things^ 
nor take up suddenly with mere appearances; but 
penetrate into the depth of matters, as far as your 
time and circumstances allow, especially in those 
things which relate to your own profession. Do not 
indulge yourselves to judge of things by the first 
glimpse, or a short and superficial view of them; 
for this will fill the mind with errors and prejudices, 
and give it a wrong turn and ill habit of thinking, 
and make much work for retractation. Subito is car- 
ried away with title-pages, so that he ventures to 
pronounce upon a large octavo at once, and to re- 
commend it wonderfully when he had read half the 
preface. Another volume of controversies, of equal 
size, was discarded by him at once, because it pre- 
tended to treat of the Trinity, and yet he could nei- 
ther find the word essence nor subsistencies in the 



220 

twelve first pages ; but Subito changes his opinions 
of men and books, and thinks so often, that nobody 
regards him. 

As for those sciences, or those parts of knowledge, 
which either your profession, your leisure, your in- 
clination, or your incapacity, forbid you to pursue 
with much application, or to search far into them, 
you must be contented with an historical and super- 
ficial knowledge of them ; 

Judg. — Nor pretend to form any judgments of your 
own on those subjects which you understand very im- 
perfectly. 

Prop. — None can be properly called rich who have 
not more than they want , there are therefore few rich 
men in any of the politer nations, but among the 
middle sort of people, who keep their wishes within 
their fortunes, and have more wealth than they know 
how to enjoy. Persons of a higher rank live in a 
kind of splendid poverty; and are perpetually want- 
ing, because, instead of acquiescing in the solid 
pleasures of life, they endeavour to outvie one an- 
other in shadows and appearances. Men of sense 
have at all times beheld, with a great deal of mirth, 
this silly game that is playing over their heads ; and, 
by contracting their desires, they enjoy all that secret 
satisfaction which others are always in quest of. 
The truth is, this ridiculous chase after imagi- 
nary pleasures, cannot be sufficiently exposed, as 



221 

it is the great source of those evils which generally 
undo a nation. 

Judg. — Let a man's estate be zchat it may^ he is a 
poor man, if he does not live within it : and naturally 
sets himself to sale to any one that can give him his 
price. 

Rule 31. — All the parts of a discussion, ex- 
cepting the subject dr proposition, and the 
judgment, are arguments. 

In the examples under the foregoing rules, th* 
arguments may be seen and examined. 

Rule 32. — There are various sorts of argu« 
ments; but they may all be resolved into 
those which are demonstrative, and those 
which are doubtful. 

Rule 33. — Demonstrative arguments are 
such as do not admit of any suspicion : but 
the truth of which is self-evident or is univer- 
sally acknowledged. 

Rule 34. — Doubtful arguments are such as 
may be questioned; but the truth of which 



222 

may nevertheless be inferred from some ac- 
knowledged circumstances. 

The following is an example. Sickness may be 
good for us. This may be doubted, but that it may 
be so will appear^ if we consider, that whatever re- 
minds us of dying is good for us ; and that whatever 
shews us the uncertainty of this life, and the vanity 
of its pleasures is good for us ; now if we further 
consider, that sickness reminds us of death, and shews 
us the uncertainty of life and the vanity of its plea- 
sures, it will appear that sickness may be good 
for us. 

Rule 35. — In discriminating and recollect- 
ing arguments, which we read or hear, it is 
not necessary to observe all that is said, but 
only such things as prove the truth of the pro- 
position or judgment. 

In the following examples, the principal arguments 
are distinguished by italics. If they be read sepa- 
rately they will be found to be proofs of the truth of 
the proposition, that the holy scriptures are excel- 
lent. If the rest of the discussion be read, it will be 
fbund to consist of reasonings or illustration in sup- 
port of the arguments. 



223 



EXCELLENCE OF THE HOLY SCRIPTURES. 

There is not a b®ok on earth so favourable to all 
the kind, and all the sublime affections; or so un- 
friendly to hatred and persecution, to tyranny, to in- 
justice, and every sort of malevolence, as the GospeL 
It breathes nothing throughout, but mercy, benevo- 
lence, and peace. 

Poetry is sublime^ when it awakens in the mind 
any great and good affection, as piety, or patriotism. 
This is one of the noblest effects of the art. The 
Psalms are remarkable, beyond all other writings, for 
their power of inspiring de-cout emotions* But it is 
not in this respect only, that they are sublime. Of 
the divine nature, they contain t/te most magnificent 
descriptions, that the soul of man can comprehend. 
The hundred and fourth Psalm, in particular, dis- 
plays the power and goodness of Providence, in 
creating and preserving the world, and the va- 
rious tribes of animals in it, with such majestic 
brevity and beauty, as it is in vain to look for in any 
human composition. 

Such of the doctrines of the Gospel as ar8 level 
to* human capacity, appear to be agreeable to the 
purest truth, and the soundest morality. AH the ge- 
nius and learning of the heathen world ; all the pe-' 
netration of Pythagoras, Socrates, and Aristotle, had 



224 

never been able to produce such a system of moral 
duty, and so rational an account of Providence and of 
man, as are to be found in the New Testament. 
Compared, indeed, with this, all other moral and 
theological wisdom — 

Loses, discountenanc'd, and like folly shows. 

Mule 36. — In hearing or reading any argu- 
mentation : keep in mind the proposition or 
judgment, the truth of which is to be esta- 
blished : so as to be able to perceive, not only 
the truth or fallacy of every argument, but 
also to feel whether it do or do not apply to 
the subject. 

Thus, if any one attempted to prove that a man 
had fortitude, and to shew that he had, it were to be 
asserted and proved, that in battle he voluntarily 
went in the front ranks; encountered every danger 
without dismay ; and performed prodigies of valor ; 
these things might be true, and would show he had 
courage ; yet they would not prove he had fortitude, 
because fortitude is that quality which endures pain, 
and is totally distinct from courage, which is the 
quality that enables men to encounter danger. 

There will be little difficulty in discriminating and 



225 

retaining any discussion, if the subject be under* 
stood; and the point to be established, be kept in 
mind. For though a great deal may be said or 
written upon any question, yet it must all be included 
under a very few general arguments. If those gene- 
ral arguments be observed, they will easily be re- 
membered, because they are connected with each 
other : and if they be retained, the substance of all 
that has been said or written will be recollected, be- 
cause the leading arguments will serve as a key ta 
all the rest. 



x.fi 



PART m. 



>Y the time the pupil or student shall have 
reached this part of the work, it is assumed that he 
will have acquired the habits of correct enunciation, 
graceful deportment, facility of discrimination, and 
tenacity of memory ; and before any further advance* 
ment be attempted, it will be prudent in him to con- 
sider whether he have attained these several requi- 
sites. Patience and perseverance are necessary in 
every valuable acquisition, nor can the art of public 
speaking be obtained without them. The student, 
therefore, had better devote a little more time to the 
previous parts, if he still perceive a deficiency, than 
impetuously proceed without sufficient preparation. 

The reason is now to be employed on its own re- 
sources. In the last preceding part of the work, the 
student had narratives, descriptions, and arguments, 
which had been already prepared, and the substance of 
Which he had to discriminate, retain, and deliver. If 
tfcose exercises were performed before several other 



287 

persons, it may reasonably be hoped, that the pupil 
has dismissed childish diffidence, and has now ac- 
quired that share of modest confidence which will 
enable him respectfully to look persons in the face, 
and state his sentiments upon any subject he under- 
stands. 

Let not youth however imagine, that pertness, 
conceit, or an impudent stare, will assist them in be- 
coming* orators. There is a medium between awk- 
ward bashfulness and unblushing effrontery, at 
which they are to aim. Neither should the facility 
with which they may become enabled to express 
themselves, induce a forg^tfulness of that decorum 
which enjoins young people to silence unless their 
opinion be required. A forward manner and a chat- 
tering tongue are still to be avoided and despised. 
A boy who affects the manner of a man, however 
clever or cunningihe may be, nevertheless exhibits a 
most disgusting violation of propriety and decency. 

With these remarks, let us now proceed to the art 
of extempore speaking. 

It should be premised, that in all the following 
exercises great attention should be paid to the arti- 
culation, emphasis, tones, pauses, &c; but that in 
the earlier ones, and until the pupil; shall arrive at 
the complete discussion of a subject, no particular 
gesture need be used. He will stand firmly, steadily, 
and gracefully, according to the directions given ill 



part the first; but he need not as yet employ his 
hands in action. 

Rule 1. — In all the succeeding' exercises 
avoid the affectation of inflated or unusual 
expressions : use such words only as are natu- 
ral and familiar. 

Rule 2 — Do not hesitate or stammer, but 
speak openly and plainly what occurs to you. 
Do not go back to correct your words : if 
you begin with this habit it will never be sub- 
dued : attention and practice will gradually 
produce correct, as well as graceful lan- 
guage. 

Elegance of diction, and harmony in arrangement, 
are by no means to be disregarded ; but they must 
not be attempted, until fluency of familiar language 
shall have been attained. These ulterior accom- 
plishments will be insensibly acquired hereafter, 
from a careful perusal of works of taste, the exam- 
ple of living orators of eminence, and the efficacy 
of continued practice. Moreover, it is necessary to 
employ our reason before we attend to the niceties 
of style. A man with easy elocution, good sense* 



229 

and plain language, will seldom be heard without 
patience and pleasure : a man with graceful enun- 
ciation and elaborate phraseology, but without sound 
reason, will please few and convince none. 

Rule 3. — When a subject is proposed for 
discussion, observe whether it be a simple 
subject; as honour, friendship, flattery, &c. 
or a general proposition, as delays are dan- 
gerous, riches have wings, no man is rich who 
has not more than he wants; or a question*, 
admitting as an answer only a simple affirma- 
tion or negative, as, is he guilty or not guilty 
of murder? is eloquence beneficial or inju- 
rious? is the proposed measure likely to be 
advantageous? 

Rule 4. — If the subject proposed be, what 
has been termed a simple subject, begin by a 
clear and correct definition of it. 



* All other questions may be resolved into simple subjects; 
as, what is happiness ? what measures shall be adopted in this 
case ? &c. In such cases the mind forms its own conclusion on 
the subject proposed, and reasons from the subject to the 
judgment, 



230 

For this purpose., observe carefully the following 
directions : for the pupil must not proceed until he 
can readily define any simple subjec f which may Be 
proposed to him. But it may assist him tb he told 
that the definition is to be just such an explanation, 
as he would put after the word if he were writing a 
dictionary. 

Rule 5. — Let the definition be clear antt 
plain. 

Rule 6. — Let the definition be short, having: 
no superfluity of words.. 

Rule 7. — Let the definition Be peculiar to the 
things defined, and agree to that alone.- 

Rule 8. — Let the definition be an explana- 
tion of the thing* to be defined, and not con~ 
sist of synonymous names. 

The following are examples of definition; 

SUBJECTS-. DEFINITIONS* 

Wine, the juice of the grape. 

Sin, a want of conformity to the law sf 

God, 



231 



Swiftness* 


the passing over a long space in a 




short time. 


Island, 


a piece of land rising above the 




surrounding water. 


Veracity, 


the conformity of our words to 




our thoughts. 


Temperance, 


the restraint of passion* 


Flattery, 


false praise. 



Rule 9. — If the subject proposed be, what 
has been termed, a general proposition ; con- 
sider whether it be true or doubtful » 

Rule 10.- — If the proposition be trite, begin 
by a short proof or illustration of its truth* 

The following are examples : 

PROOFS On ILLTTSTRA* 
PROPOSITIONS. TIONS. 

Delays are dangerous. The imprudence of trust- 
ing to the future is 
proved by the uncer- 
tainty of all human 
affairs, 



PROPOSITIONS 

Riches have wings. 



232 



PROOFS OR ILLUSTRA- 
TIONS. 

Extravagance, dissipa- 
tion, and sometimes 
misfortune ; quickly 
disperse the greatest 
wealth. 
No man is rich who has Poverty is only a state of 
not more than he want; he therefore 

wants. who is in want must 

be esteemed poor. 



Rule 11.- — If the proposition be doubtful, 
observe the two principal features of it, and 
define them separately according to the rules 
given for definitions. 



In each of the following propositions the principal 
features, when expressed as nouns, are distinguished 
by italics ; and when they are not thus expressed, 
they are included between parenthesis. 

Imperfect knowledge is worse than ignorance. 
No man can be immortal (immortality.) 
Riches do not" confer happiness. 
Beauty is not desirable (value.) 



233 

Rule 12. — If the subject proposed be a 
question, admitting as an answer only a sim- 
ple affirmation or negative; begin with a defi- 
nition of the thing which is the subject of the 
question. 

In each of the following examples, the thing to be 
defined is distinguished by italics. 

Is he guilty or not guilty of murder ? 

Is eloquence beneficial or injurious ? 

Is the proposed measure likely to be advantage- 
' ous? (in this instance it must be ascertained what the 
measure is.) 

Rule 13. — As the object of all reasoning is 
to prove the truth of some opinion (or, as it 
is called, judgment); observe what your own 
opinion is, and then take care to fully under- 
stand, and faithfully remember it. 

Rule 14. — If the subject proposed be, what 
has been termed, a simple subject, the judg- 
ment will be, not only that it is good or bad, 
desirable or dangerous, but that it is so in some 
particular manner. 



£31 
The following are examples. 



SUBJECT. 

Wine, 
Sin, 



bad, 



Veracity, good, 
Temperance, good ? 
Flattery, bad, 



GENERAL 
JUDGMENT. PARTICULAR JUDGMENT. 

dangerous, destroys the faculties. 

the source of perpetual 

misery, 
obtains confidence* 
leads to happiness, 
particularly mischievous to 
youth. 



Rule 15. — If the subject proposed be, what 
has been termed, a general and true proposi- 
tion j the judgment or inference will consist of 
some admonition or practical precept. 

The following are examples. 



PROPOSITIONS. 

Delays are dangerous,. 



Riches have wings* 

No man is rich, who. has 



not more 
wants* 



than he 



INFERENCES* 

Whether we are to act or 
suffer, let us not put 
off what must finally 
be done. 

Let us not place reliance 
on worldly treasures. 

Let us not treat the poor 
with disdain. 



235 

Rule 16. — If the subject proposed be a 
doubtful proposition, decide for yourself what 
the truth of it is; and let that decision be your 
judgment. 

Rule 17. — If the subject proposed be a 
question, admitting as an answer only a simple 
affirmation or negative, answer the question 
according to the best of your reason, and 
that answer will be your judgment. 

These two rules need not any illustration. 

Rule 18. — As no opinion or judgment can 
be formed without some reasons, take care to 
remember what were the reasons which in- 
duced you to form your opinion or judg- 
ment. 

Rule 19. — Let your chief reasons be few ? 
strong, and direct to the point which you want 
to prove. 

For this purpose observe the following directions. 
Nevertheless, the pupil must not expect that by 



236 

mere rules he can acquire the power of reasoning 
accurately. Nor is the habit of conceiving clearly, 
of judging justly, and of reasoning well, to be at- 
tained merely by the happiness of constitution, the 
brightness of genius, the best natural parts, or the 
best collection of precepts. It is custom and prac- 
tice that must form and establish this habit. We 
must apply ourselves to it till we perform all this 
readily, and without having occasion to refer con- 
stantly to rujes. A coherent thinker and a strict 
reasoner are not to be made at once by a set of rules, 
any more than a good painter or musician may be 
formed by an excellent lecture on music or painting. 
Let not these considerations, however, deter young 
persons from the task before them. With moderate 
application, and faithful observance of the discipline 
prescribed, there is little doubt but that they will 
soon perceive their improvement, and at last their 
complete success. 

Rule 20. — Always keep the precise point of 
the present question in your eye. Take heed 
that you add nothing to it while you are ar- 
guing, nor omit any part of it. Watch care- 
fully lest any new ideas slide in. See that 
the question be not altered by the ambiguity 
of any word taken in different senses; nor let 



237 

any secret prejudices of your own, or the so- 
phistical arts of others, cheat your understand- 
ing- by changing the question, or shuffling in 
any thing else in its room. 

And for this end it is useful to keep the precise 
matter of inquiry as simple as may be, and disen- 
gaged from a complication of ideas, which do not 
necessarily belong to it. By admitting a complica- 
tion of ideas, and taking too many things at once 
into one question, the mind is sometimes dazzled 
and bewildered ; and the truth is lost in such a va- 
riety and confusion of ideas; whereas by limiting 
and narrowing the question, you take a full survey 
of it. 

Rule 21. — In choosing your arguments to 
prove any question, always take such topics as 
are sure, and least fallible, and which carry the 
greatest evidence and strength with them. 
Be not so solicitous about the number, as the 
weight of your arguments, especially in prov- 
ing any proposition which admits of natural 
certainty, or of complete demonstration. Many 
times w 7 e do injury to a cause by dwelling- 
upon trifling arguments, We amuse our 



238 

hearers with uncertainties, by multiplying 1 the 
number of feeble reasonings, before we men- 
tion those which are more substantial, conclu- 
sive, and convincing-. And too often we 
yield up our own assent to mere probable 
arguments, where certain proofs may be ob- 
tained, 

Male 22, — Prove your conclusion (as far as 
possible) by some propositions that are in 
themselves more plain, evident, and certain 
than the conclusion ; or at least such as are 
more known, and more intelligible to the per- 
sons whom you would convince. If we neg- 
lect this rule, we shall endeavour to enlighten 
that which is obscure by something equally 
or more obscure, and to confirm that which is 
doubtful, by something equally or more uncer- 
tain. Common sense dictates to all men, that 
it is impossible to establish any truth, and to 
convince others of it, but by something that is 
better known to them than that truth is. 

To illustrate this rule, let us take as a point to he 
proved — u that there will be a future state." Now 5 



239 

if in order to prove this, we offered some principles 
which were doubtful, or not better known, we might 
say a great deal, but we should prove nothing. But 
if we first take as a principle or argument, that 
" God will at one time or another make a difference 
between the good and the evil ;" the tenth and 
strength of this argument will be immediately ac- 
knowledged, because all reasonable men are con- 
scious of God's justice. If we then take as a second 
argument, " that there is little or no difference be- 
tween the good and the evil in this world," the force 
of this principle will be quite as strong, because 
every one thinks he has had proof of it in experi- 
ence. Now these two arguments of themselves 
prove the point to be established, as we shall imme- 
diately perceive, if we place them together, thus: 
God will, at one time or another, make a difference 
between the good and the evil. There is little or no 
difference between the good and the evil in this 
world ; therefore there must be a future state, 
wherein this difference shall be made. 

By this mode of reasoning also, quotations are 
made from books and from the words of men of hiffh 
repute. But if a lawyer in pleading were to cite 
cases or passages out of books that were not known, 
nor of established reputation, neither the judges nor 
the audience would be convinced by the mere name 



240 

of such unknown or despised authors; but if he were 
to adduce the words of a man known to have been 
profound in his knowledge of the law, they would, 
as far as they were applicable, greatly strengthen his 
client's cause. Thus divines also offer texts of 
scripture to enforce men's duties ; because every be- 
liever pays reverence to the sacred writings. 

Rule 23. — Though arguments should give 
light to the subject, as well as constrain the 
assent, yet you must learn to distinguish well 
between an explanation and an argument; 
and neither impose upon yourselves, nor suffer 
yourselves to be imposed upon by others, by 
mistaking* a mere illustration for a convincing 
Reason. 

Similitudes and allusions have oftentimes a very 
happy influence to explain some difficult truth, and 
render the idea of it familiar and easy. Where the 
resemblance is just and accurate, the influence of a 
simile may proceed so far as to shew the possibility 
of the thing in question : but similitudes must not be 
taken as a solid proof of the truth or existence of 
those things to which they have a resemblance. Too 
great a deference paid to similitudes, or an utter re- 



241 

jection of them seem to be two extremes, and ought 
to be avoided. 

METHOD. 

It is not merely a clear and distinct idea, a well 
formed proposition, or a just argument, that is suffi- 
cient to search out and communicate the knowledge 
of a subject. There must be a variety and series of 
them j disposed in a clear and connected form. The 
art of making such an arrangement is called me* 
thod. It is method that must secure our thoughts 
from that confusion, obscurity, and mistake which 
must unavoidably attend a wild disordered ef- 
fusion. 

The method necessary to correct reasoning, and 
efficient eloquence may be defined to be, the dis- 
position of a variety of thoughts on any subject, in 
such order as may best serve to find out unknown 
truths, explain and confirm truths that are known, 
and to fix them in the memory. 

It is by method that persons are able to range 
their own thoughts in such a system and scheme, as 
to take a large and comprehensive survey of 
every subject and design in all its parts: by this 
means they can better judge what to choose and what 
to reject: how to manage the whole scene before 
them, so as attain their own ends with greater suc- 
cess and applause. 

w 



242 

Hide 24. — Let your method be plain and 
easy, so that your hearers or readers, as well 
yourself, may run through it without embar- 
rassment, and may take a clear and compre- 
hensive view of the whole scheme* To this 
end the following* particular directions will be 
useful 

1. Begin always with those things which are best 
known, and most obvious, whereby the mind may 
have no difficulty or fatigue, and proceed by regu- 
lar and easy steps to things that are more difficult. 
And as far as possible let not the understanding, or 
the proof of any of your positions depend on the 
positions that follow, but always on those which go 
before. 

2. Do not effect excessive haste, lest you be too 
soon involved in several new and strange ideas and 
propositions, which cannot be well understood with- 
out a longer and closer attention to those which go 
before. Such sort of speech is but a waste of time, 
and will constrain you to take many steps back- 
ward. 

3. Be not fond of crowding too many thoughts 
and reasonings into one sentence or paragraph, be- 
yond the apprehension or capacity of your readers 
or hearers. 

4. For the same reason^ avoid too many subdivi- 



243 

sions. Contrive jour scheme of thoughts in such 
manner as may finish your whole argument with tfa 
few inferior branchings as reason will admit; and 
let them be such as are obvious and open to the un- 
derstanding, that they may come within one single 
view of the mind. This will not only assist the un- 
derstanding to receive, but it will aid the memory 
also to retain truth : whereas a discourse cut out 
into a vast multitude of gradual subordinations has 
many inconveniences in it; it gives pain to the mind 
and memory, in surveying and retaining the scheme 
of discourse, and exposes the unskilful hearers to 
mingle the superior and inferior particulars together, 
it leads them into a thick wood, instead of open day- 
light, and places them in a labyrinth instead of a 
plain path. 

5. Give all diligence to obtain a clear and easy 
way of expressing your conceptions, that your words, 
as fast as you utter them, may stamp your ideas 
exactly on the mind of the hearer. This is a most 
happy talent for the conveyance of truth, and an ex- 
cellent security against mistakes and needless con- 
troversies. 



Rule 25. — Let your method be distinct, 
and without the perplexing mixture of things 
that ought to be kept separate, and this will 

m 2 



244 

be easily practised by observing the following 
directions. 

1. Do not bring unnecessary heterogeneous matter 
in your dscourse on any subject; that is, do not 
mingle an argument on one subject with matters 
that relate entirely to another, but just so far as is 
necessary to give a clearer knowledge of the subject 
in hand. 

2. Let every complicated idea be divided into its 
distinct single parts, as far as the nature of the sub- 
ject and your present design requires it. Though 
you must not abound in needless subdivisions, yet 
something of this work is very necessary. Thus, if 
we say, that a poet must possess great powers; we 
express an idea, complicated or compounded of 
many others ; therefore, if this complicated idea be 
material to our discussion we should divide or ex- 
plain it, by enumerating the several powers of which 
a poet must be possessed, viz. brilliant genius, pro- 
found and acute observation, deep learning, great 
command of language, &c. &c. 

S. Keep each part of the subject in its own place. 
Put those things all together that belong to one part 
or property, one consideration or view of your sub- 
ject. This will prevent needless repetitions, and 
keep you from intermixing things which are different. 
We must maintain this distinction of things and 



245 

places, if we would be safe from error. It is confu- 
sion that leads us into endless mistakes, which natu- 
rally arise from a variety of ideas ill-joined, sorted, 
or ill-disposed. 

4. In the partition of your discourse into distinct 
heads, take heed that your particulars do not inter- 
fere with each other. 

Rule 26. — Your method must be full with- 
out deficiency, and it must be short, or with- 
out superfluity. The fullness of a discourse 
enlarges our knowledge, and the well-concert- 
ed brevity saves our time. 

Have a care of tedious prolixity, or drawing out 
iany part of your discourse to an unnecessary and 
tiresome length. It is much more honourable for 
an instructor, an orator, a pleader, or a preacher*, 
that his hearers should say, " We were afraid he 
would have done," than that they should be tempt- 
ed to shew signs of uneasiness, and long for the 
conclusion. 

Do not multiply explanations where there is no 
difficulty, or darkness, or danger of mistake. 

Be not fond of proving those things which need 
no proof, such as self-evident propositions and truths 



246 

universally confessed, or such as are entirely agreed 
to and granted by your opponents. 

As there are some things so evidently true, that 
they want no proof, so there are others so evidently 
false, that they want no refutation. It is mere trifling, 
and a waste of our invaluable time, to invent and 
raise such objections as no man would ever make in 
earnest, and that merely for the sake of answering 
and solving them ; this breaks in notoriously upon 
the due brevity of method. 

Do not suffer every occasional and incidental 
thought to carry you away into a long parenthesis, 
and thus to stretch out your discourse, and divert you 
from the point in hand. 

A man, who walks directly but slowly towards his 
journey's end, will arrive thither much sooner than 
his neighbour, who runs into every crooked turning 
which he meets, and wanders aside to gaze at every 
thing that strikes his eyes by the way, or to ga- 
ther every gaudy flower that grows by the side of 
the road. 

To sum up all; there is an happy medium to 
be observed in our method, so that the brevity 
may not render the sense obscure, nor the argu- 
ment feeble, nor our knowledge merely superfi- 
cial : and on the other hand, that the fullness 
and copiousness of our method may not waste the 



247 

time, tire the hearer or fill the mind with trifles and 
impertinencies. 

Rule 27.— The parts of a discourse should 
be well connected; and these few short direc- 
tions will probably suffice for this purposer 

Keep your main end and design ever in view, and 
let all the parts of your discourse have a tendency 
towards it, and as far as possible make that tendency 
visible all the way : otherwise the hearers will have 
reason to wonder for what end this or that particular 
was introduced. 

Let the mutual relation and dependence of the 
several branches of your discourse be so just and 
evident, that every part may naturally lead onward 
to the next, without any huge chasms or breaks which 
interrupt and deform the scheme. The connection 
of truths should arise and appear in their successive 
ranks and order, as the several parts of a fine pros- 
pect ascend just behind each other, in their natural 
and regular elevations and distances, and invite the 
eye to climb onward with constant pleasure till it 
reach the sky. Whatsoever horrid beauty or subli- 
mity a precipice or a cataract may add to the prospect 
of a country, yet such sort of hideous and abrupt ap- 
pearances in a scene of reasoning are real blemishes 



24$ 

and nojt beauties* When the reader is passing over 
such a treatise, he often finds a wide vacancy, and 
makes an uneasy stop, and knows not how to 
transport his thoughts over to the next particu- 
lar, for want of some clue or connecting idea to 
lay hold of. 

Finally, where the ideas, propositions, and argu- 
ments, are happily disposed, and well connected, the 
truth is secure; nevertheless, the discourse becomes 
much more agreeable, when proper and graceful ex- 
pression joins the parts of it together in an inviting 
and entertaining manner. 

STYLE OF LANGUAGE. 

Having thus prescribed a plain and easy disci- 
pline for reasoning, this, in addition to the preced- 
ing instructions for delivery, discrimination, and re- 
tention, would render the present system complete. 
But, in order to give the student every possible as- 
sistance in his attempts to attain true oratory, the 
following instructions are added, to aid him in the 
acquisition of correct and elegant phraseology. 

Rule 28.— Make no effort at elegance of 
expression, until, strict accuracy of language 
shall have been obtained. 

Strict accuracy of language includes, not only a 



Si9 

faithful observance of all the rules of grammar, but 
a rigid attention to perspicuity. 

It has already been suggested, that no one should 
attempt the art of publk speaking, who has not pre- 
viously attained a practical knowledge of grammar, 
and facility in written composition. But as there 
may be many who consider themselves thus quali- 
fied, and nevertheless, unconsciously, practise many 
violations of perspicuity, rules are here given tp 
assist them in obtaining an accurate style. 

It is to be hoped that no one will disregard so 
important a branch of literary composition, whether 
written or oral. Perspicuity is the fundamental 
quality of style : a quality so essential in every kind, 
of writing, that for the want of it nothing can atone. 
It is not to be considered as merely a sort of nega- 
tive virtue or freedom from defect. It has higher 
merit: it is a degree of positive beauty. We are 
pleased tvith an author,, and consider him as deserv- 
ing praise, who frees us from all fatigue of search- 
ing for his meaning; who carries us through the 
subject without any embarrassment or confusion; 
whose style flows like a limpid stream, through 
which we see to the very bottom. 

The study of perspicuity and accuracy of expres- 
sion consists of two parts; first, to single words 
and phrases ; and then, to the construction of sen- 
tences. These qualities of style, considered with 

m5 



250 

regard to words and phrases, require the following 
properties; purity, propriety, and precision , 

Rule 29. — Use such words and such con- 
structions as belong* to the idiom of the lan- 
guage which we speak; and reject word* 
and phrases that are taken from other 
languages, or that are ungrammatical, ob- 
solete, new coined, or used without proper 
authority. 

Rule 30. — Select such words as the best 
usage has appropriated to those ideas whick 
we intend to express. 

Rule 31. — Avoid low expressions, such as 
belter skelter, stark staring mad, &c 

Rule 32. — Do not use the same word too 
frequently, nor in different senses. 

Rule 33. — Avoid the injudicious use of 
technical terms. 

Rule 34. — Avoid equivocal or ambiguous - 
Words- 



251 

Thus, if it were said — u Richard promised hi§ 
fother never to abandon his friends," it would not 
appear, whether the friends of Richard or those of 
his father were meant.- 

Rule 35. — Avoid unintelligible and incon- 
sistent words or phrases. 

The following passage contains an example of the 
nonsense which must follow, if this rule be disre- 
garded. 

u And in the lowest deep, a lower deep 

" Still threatening to devour me, opens wide." 

what could be lozzer than the lozcest deep. The idea, 
also, intended to be conveyed by devour, would hav& 
been better expressed by ingitlph. 

Rule 36. — Avoid all those words and phrases 
which are not adapted to the ideas we mean 
to communicate, or which are less signifi- 
cant of those ideas than other expressions 
would be. 

If we say, that " disputing should be so managed 
£s to remember that the only end of it is trathj" 



2V2 

the word remember is misapplied, it should be 
evince. 

Rule 37. — Take care to express the idea 
intended, and that only; and not one that 
only resembles it, or the idea itself with one 
that does not belong- tq it. 

Therefore do not say courage instead of fortitude; 
nor use both when only one is intended. A man 
with fortitude is patient, a man with courage is 
brave. 

Rule 38.— Do not make your sentences in 
general, very long or very short: long ones re- 
quire close attention to make us clearly per- 
ceive the connection of the several parts; 
and short ones are apt to break the sense, and 
weaken the connection of thought. 

Rule 39. — Let every sentence be clear; so 
as not to leave the mind in any sort of sus- 
pense as to the meaning. 

Rule 40. — Do not crowd into one sentence, 
things which have so little connection, that 



253 

they could bear to be divided into two or three 
sentences. 

Rule 41. — Never admit unnecessary paren- 
thesis. 

Although parentheses may sometimes be useful 
and even judicious; yet their effect in general is ex- 
tremely bad. They are wheels within wheels, sen- 
tences within sentences; and are only a perplexed 
method of disposing of some thought, which better 
judgment would have introduced in a more suitable 
pi-ace. 

Rule 42. — Exclude all redundant words 
and phrases. 

Suppose it were said, that " the man on receiving 
this information, rose, went out, saddled his horse, 
mounted him, and rode to town :" would not this 
be a clumsy mode of saying, " the man on receiving 
this information rode to town ?" 

Rule 43. — Do not conclude your sentences 
with an adverb, a preposition, or any inconsi- 
derable word. 



In English, a sentence generally sounds most im- 
pressively and most pleasingly, if concluded by a 
noun : if a noun cannot be introduced with conveni- 
ence at the end of the sentence, a verb should, if 
possible, be the closing word. But in no instance" 
should perspicuity, precision, or strength of senti- 
ment, be sacrificed to sound. All unmeaning words, 
introduced merely to round the period, or fill up the 
melody, are great blemishes in composition. They 
are childish and trivial ornaments, by which a sen- 
tence always loses more in point of weight, than, by 
such additions, it can gain to its sound. 



FIGURES OF SPEECH. 

Figures of speech generally imply some departure 
from simplicity of expression : the idea which we 
mean to convey is expressed in a particular manner, 
so as ta render the impression more strong and 
vivid. 

There are many advantages attending the judi- 
cious use of the figures of speech. They enrich > 
language, and render it more copious. They fre- 
quently give a much- clearer, and more striking view 
of the principal objectj than could be. obtained, if it 
were expressed in simple terms. 

But it cannot be too forcibly inculcated, partieu* 



Xb5 

larly to young persons, that a frequent use of figura- 
tive expressions, or the misapplication of one, be- 
trays a want of taste, and incurs contempt. 

It has already been said, that a clear, easy, sen- 
sible discourse is the first and greatest object to 
which students in oratory should aspire. Embel- 
lishments of every kind should be but secondary 
considerations. But as the figures of speech are 
extremely useful and highly ornamental in their 
proper places, the following short rules may be 
useful. 

The principal figures are metaphor, allegory, 
comparison, metonymy, synecdoche, personification, 
apostrophe, antithesis, interrogation, exclamation, 
and amplification or climax. 

Rule 44. — A metaphor is a figure founded 
entirely on the resemblance which one object 
bears to another. It is therefore much allied 
to simile or comparison. 

When 1 say of some great minister, u that he up- 
holds the state, like a pillar which supports the 
weight of a whole edifice," I fairly make a compari- 
son: but when I say of such a minister, " that 
he is the pillar of the state," it aow becomes a> 
metaphor. 



256 



I 



following are examples of metaphor taken 
from Scripture: " I will be unto her a wall of fire 
round about, and will be the glory in the midst of 
her." " Tliou art my rock and my fortress." " Thy „ 
word is a lamp to my feet, and a light to my 
path." 

Rule 45. — Metaphors, as well as other 
figures, should, ou no occasion, be profusely 
employed; and should always be such as ac- 
cord with the strain of our sentiment. 

Rule 46. — The resemblance, which is the 
foundation of the metaphor, should be clear 
and perspicuous, not far-fetched, nor difficult 
to discover. 

Rule 47. — Never intermix metaphorical and 
plain language together. 

Rule 48. — Avoid making two inconsistent 
metaphors meet on one object* 

One may be " sheltered under the patronage of a 
great man:" but it would be wrong to say, * shel* 



257 

tered under the mask cf dissimulation :" as a mask 
conceals, but does not shelter. 

Rule 49. — Metaphors are not to be too far 
pursued. 

Rule 50 — An allegory may be regarded as 
a metaphor continued ; since it is the repre- 
sentation of some one thing* by another that 
resembles it, and which is made to stand 
for it. 

Allegory was a favourite method of delivering in- 
struction in ancient times ; for what we call fables 
or parables, are no other than allegories. By words 
and actions attributed to beasts or inanimate objects, 
the dispositions of men were figured ; and what we 
call the moral, is the unfigured sense or meaning of 
the allegory. 

Rule 51. — A comparison or simile, is, when 
the resemblance between two objects is ex- 
pressed in form, and generally pursued more 
fully than the nature of a metaphor admits ; 
as when it is said, 



258 

u The actions of princes are like those great river*} 
the course of which every one beholds, but their 
springs have been seen by few." " Behold, how 
good and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell to- 
gether in unity ! It is like the precious ointment, &c. 
and as the dew that descended upon the mountains of 
Zion." 

The advantage of this figure arises from the illus- 
tration which the simile employed gives to the princi- 
pal object ; from the clearer view which it presents, 
or the more strong impression which it stamps upon 
the mind. 

In comparisons of this nature the understanding 
is concerned much more than the fancy : and there- 
fore care should be taken that they be clear, and 
that they be useful; that they tend to render our 
conception of the principal object more distinct; and 
that they do not lead our view aside, and bewilder it 
with any false light. We should always remember 
that similes are not arguments. However applicable 
they may be, they do no more than explain, they do 
not prove. 

Rale 52. — A metonymy is founded on the 
several relations, of cause and effect, con- 
tainer and contained, sign and thing sig- 
nified. 



259 

When we say, " They read Milton," the cause is 
put instead of the effect, meaning " Milton's works." 
On the other hand, when it is said, " Gray hairs 
should be respected," we put the effect for the cause, 
meaning by u gray hairs," old age. " The kettle 
boils," is a phrase where the name of the container 
is substituted for that of the thing contained. " To 
assume the sceptre," is a common expression for en- 
tering on royal authority; the sign being put for the 
thing signified. 

Rule 53. — Synecdoche is when the whole is 
put for a part, or a part for the whole; a ge- 
nus for a species, or a species for a genus ; in 
general, when any thing less, or any thing 
more, is put for the precise object meant ; the 
figure is then called a Synecdoche or Com- 
prehension. 

It is very common, for instance, to describe a 
whole object by some remarkable part of it: as 
when. we say, " A fleet of twenty sail"- in the place 
of " ships " when we use the " head" for the 
"person" the "waves" for the "sea" In like 
manner, an attribute may be put for a subject ; as, 
" Youth" for the "young," the deep" for the " sea;'* 
and sometimes a subject for its attribute. 



260 

Mule 54. — Personification or Prosopopoeia, 
is that figure by which we attribute life and 
action to inanimate objects. The use of this 
figure is very natural and extensive. 

■ 

Thus, we say, " the ground thirsts for rain/' or 5 
u the earth smiles with plenty ;" we speak of " ambi- 
tion's being restless" or, " a disease's being de- 
ceitful." 

The wilderness and the solitary place shall be glad 
for them : and the desert shall rejoice and blossom as 
the rose." 

Rule 55. — Apostrophe is a turning off from 
the regular course of the subject, to address 
some person or thing ; as, 

" Death is swallowed up in victory. O death! 
where is thy sting? O grave! where is thy vic- 
tory?" 

Rule 56. — Antithesis. Comparison is found- 
ed on the resemblance; antithesis, on the 
contrast or opposition of two objects. Con- 



261 

trast has always the effect to make each of 
the contrasted objects appear in a stronger 
light. White, for instance, never appears so 
bright as when it is opposed to black; and 
when both are viewed together. 

" If you wish to enrich a person, study not to in- 
crease his stores, but diminish his desires." 

"If you regulate your desires according to the 
standard of nature, you will never be poor ; if, ac- 
cording to the standard of opinion, you will never 
be rich." 

Rule 57. — Interrogation. When men are 
strongly moved, whatever they would affirm 
or deny, with great earnestness, they put in 
the form of a question. 

Rule 58. — Exclamations are also the effect 
of strbng emotions of the mind; such as, sur- 
prise, admiration, joy, grief, and the like. 

Rule 59, — Amplification or Climax, consists 
in heightening all the circumstances of an 



-262 

object or action, which we desire to place in a 
strong- light. 

-• 
The following is an example : 

It is a cause which deeply affects every person that 
hears me : it is the cause of every man in the com- 
munity : it involves the rights and interests of us all, 
of our children, and of our remotest posterity. 

The rules already prescribed are sure guides to a 
correct and elegant style. It may not, however, be 
improper to caution the student against a practice 
always dangerous and generally mischievous; that 
of imitating any favourite writer or speaker. 

Few persons have succeeded in adhering to any 
such example. It generally happens that he who 
endeavours to imitate the style of any particular 
person, becomes what painters call a mannerist, an 
artist who adopts the mere peculiarities of method 
used by some great master, without attaining either 
his genius or skill. 

Many modern writers have aimed at the style of 
Dr. Johnson. The extent of their success appears 
in the display they make of sonorous epithets : but 
the profound judgment, the penetrating observation, 
the dexterity of argument, and the harmony of mo- 
dulation, by which the works of Dr. Johnson are 



263 

distinguished, are seldom attained by the inheritance 
of his imitators. There have also been mimics of 
the styles of Addison, of Sterne, and many others; 
but they have generally fallen into a common error. 

Let young persons, therefore, lay it down as a 
rule never to aim at the mere imitation of any 
writer or speaker. Read the works cf the great 
masters of thinking, writing, and speaking, as well 
those of modern times as those of antiquity. 

They will furnish, not only examples of elo- 
quence, but they -will also afford the most valuable 
specimens of reasoning and reflection. They will 
shew the manner in which almost every subject 
may be considered and discussed. Their works also 
will display the vast resources of language, and 
will thus augment the student's collection of phra- 
seology, as well as expand and multiply his 
ideas. But above all things, let the youthful ora- 
tor proceed with caution. 

To be enabled to speak with fluency and clear- 
ness and without embarrassment or hesitation, will 
be a valuable acquisition. With this he must be 
contented for a time. He must be correct, before 
he attempts to be elegant; and not imagine, that 
because he may have attained a faculty, which will 
preserve him from looking like a fool when he has 
to address a company, that he has already become 



the rival of Demosthenes or Cicero. Let him re- 
member that each of those great men, even when 
their talents and reputation were in a blaze of 
glory, were still diffident. They were not ashamed ^ 
to have recourse to such men, and such works, as 
they imagined capable of imparting instruction or 
improvement* 



THE ESI>, 



J. G. BARNARD, 
3KIKNEil»STaEEr, LONDOH. 



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